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FROM ADVANCE SHEETS. 



TENNYSON'S NEW VOLUME. 

In presenting, simuUaneoushj with its imblication in England, 

THE HOLY GRAIL, 

AND OTHER POEMS, 

to American readers, the Publishers have determined so to arrange 
the prices and styles of the various editions as to afibrd all who wish 
an opportunity of procuring the latest work of the Poet Laureate. 

The work is now ready in the following editions : — 

One Volume. 16mo. Clotli. Price, $1.00. 
" *' Itimo. Paper. " tJS cents* 

«• *• l6mo. " " 10 " 



FIELDS, OSGOOD. & CO., Publishers. 



THE HOLY GRAIL, 



AND OTHER POEMS. 



These four " Idylls of the King " are printed in their present 
form for the convenience of those who possess the former volume. 

The whole series should be read, and is to-day published, in the 
following order : — 

THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 



THE ROUND TABLE. 
G ERA [NT AND ENID. 
MERLIN AND VIVIEN. 
LANCELOT AND ELAINE. 
THE HOLY GRAIL. 
PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 
GUINEVERE. 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR* 

* This last, the earliest written of the poems, is here connected with the rest 
in accordance with an early project of the author's. 



THE HOLY GRAIL, 



AxND OTHER POEMS. 



ALFEED TENNYSON, D.C.L., 



POET LAUREATE. 




BOSTON: 
FIELDS, OSGOOD, & CO. 
1870. 



TR- 



H\,n«^^ 



It is my wish that with Messrs. Ticknor and Fields nlone 
the right of publishing ray books in America sljould rest. 

ALFRED TENNYSON. 



Grtft 
W. L. Shoemaker 

? S '06 



Univirsity Pbsss: Wet ch, Eigelow, & Co., 

CaAI BRIDGE. 



CONTENTS 



PaGB 

The Coming op Arthub 9 

The Holy Grail • • 35 

Pelleas and Ettarre 87 

The Passing of Arthur . , . . . . 121 

The Northern Farmer. New Style . . . 149 

The Victim . . 156 

Wages . . 161 

The Higher Pantheism ...... 163 

" Flower in the crannied wall " . . . . . 165 

Lccretius 166 

The Golden Supper . 181 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 



Leodogran, the King of Cameliard, 
Had one fair daughter, and none other child ; 
And she was fairest of all flesh on earth, 
Guinevere, and in her his one delight. 

For many a petty king ere Arthur came 
Ruled in this isle, and ever waging war 
Each upon other, wasted all the land ; 
And still from time to time the heathen host 
Swarm'd overseas, and harried what was left. 
And so there grew great tracts of wilderness, 
Wherein the beast was ever more and more, 
But man was less and less, till Arthur came. 
For first Aurelius lived and fousht and died. 



12 THE COMrN'G OF ARTHUR. 

And after him King Uther fought and died, 

But either fail'd to make the kingdom one. 

And after these King Arthur for a space, 

And thro' the puissance of his Table Round, 

Drew all their petty princedoms under him, 

Their king and head, and made a realm, and reign'd. 

And thus the land of Cameliard was waste. 
Thick with wet woods, and many a beast therein, 
And none or few to scare or chase the beast ; 
So that wild dog and wolf and boar and bear 
Came night and day, and rooted in the fields, 
And wallow'd in the gardens of the king. 
And ever and anon the wolf would steal 
The children and devour, but now and then. 
Her own brood lost or dead, lent her fierce teat 
To human sucklings ; and the children, housed 
In her foul den, there at their meat would growl, 
And mock their foster-mother on four feet, 
Till, straighten'd, they grew up to wolf-like men, 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 13 

Worse than the wolves : and King Leodogran 
Groan'd for the Roman legions here again, 
And Ca3sar*s eagle : then his brother king, 
RIence, assail'd him : last a heathen horde, 
Reddening the sun with smoke and earth with blood, 
And on the spike that split the mother's heart 
Spitting the child, brake on him, till, amazed. 
He knew not whither he should turn for aid. 

But — for he heard of Arthur newly crown'd, 
Tho' not without an uproar made by those 
Who cried, " He is not Uther's son " — the king 
Sent to him, saying, " Arise, and help us thou ! 
For here between the man and beast we die." 

And Arthur yet had done no deed of arms, 
But heard the call, and came : and Guinevere 
Stood by the castle walls to watch him pass ; 
But since he neither wore on helm or shield 
The golden symbol of his kinglihood. 



14 THE COMING OP ARTHUR. 

But rode a simple knight among his knights, 
And many of these in richer arms than he, 
She saw him not, or mark'd not, if she saw, 
One among many,tho' his face was bare. 
But Arthur, looking downward as he past, 
Felt the light of her eyes into his life 
Smite on the sudden, yet rode on, and pitch'd 
His tents beside the forest : and he drave 
The heathen, and he slew the beast, and fell'd 
The forest, and let in the sun, and made 
Broad pathways for the hunter and the knight, 
And so return'd. 

For while he linger'd there, 
A doubt that ever smoulder'd in the hearts 
Of those great Lords and Barons of his realm 
Flash'd forth and into war : for most of these 
Made head against him, crying, " Who is he 
That he should rule us ? who hath proven him 
King Uther's son ? for lo ! we look at liim. 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 15 

And find nor face nor bearing, limbs nor voice, 
Are like to those of Uther whom we knew. 
This is the son of Gorlois, not the king. 
This is the son of Anton, not the king." 

And Arthur, passing thence to battle, felt 
Travail, and throes and agonies of the life. 
Desiring to be join'd with Guinevere ; 
And thinking as he rode, " Her father said 
That there between the man and beast they die. 
Shall I not lift her from this land of beasts 
Up to my throne, and side by side with me ? 
What happiness to reign a lonely king, 
Vext — O ye stars that shudder over me, 

earth, that soundest hollow under me, 

Vext with waste dreams ? for saving I be join'd 
To her that is the fairest under heaven, 

1 seem as nothing in the mighty world. 
And cannot will my will, nor work my work 
Wholly, nor make myself in mine own realm 



16 THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 

Victor and lord ; but were I join'd with her, 
Then might we live together as one life, 
And reigning with one will in everything 
Have power on this dark land to lighten it, 
And power on this dead world to make it live." 

And Arthur from the field of battle sent 
Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere, 
His new-made knights, to King Leodogran, 
Saying, " If I in aught have served thee well, 
Give me thy daughter Guinevere to wife." 

Whom when he heard, Leodogran in heart 
Debating — " How should I that am a king. 
However much he holp me at my need, 
Give my one daughter saving to a king, 
And a king's son " — lifted his voice, and call'd 
A hoary man, his chamberlain, to whom 
He trusted all things, and of him required 
His counsel : " Knowest thou aught of Arthur's birth ? ' 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 17 

Then spake the hoary chamberlain and said, 
" Sir king, there be but two old men that know : 
And each is twice as old as I ; and one 
Is Merlin, the wise man that ever served 
King Uther thro' his magic art ; and one 
Is Merlin's master (so they call him) Bleys, 
Who taught him magic ; but the scholar ran 
Before the master, and so far, that Bleys 
Laid magic by, and sat him down, and wrote 
All things and whatsoever Merlin did 
In one great annal-book, where after years 
Will learn the secret of our Arthur's birth." 

To whom the King Leodogran replied, 
" friend, had I been holpen half as well 
By this King Arthur as by thee to-day. 
Then beast and man had had their share of me : 
But summon here before us yet once more 
Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere." 



18 THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 

Then, when they came before him, the king said, 
" I have seen the cuckoo chased by lesser fowl, 
And reason in the chase : but wherefore now 
Do these your lords stir up the heat of war, 
Some calling Arthur born of Gorlois, 
Others of Anton ? Tell me, ye yourselves, 
Hold ye this Arthur for King Uther's son?" 

And Ulfius and Brastias answer'd," Ay." 
Then Bedivere, the first of all his knights. 
Knighted by Arthur at his crowning, spake, — 
For bold in heart and act and word was he, 
Whenever slander breathed against the king, — 

" Sir, there be many rumors on this head : 
For there be those who hate him in their hearts, 
Call him baseborn, and since his ways are sweet, 
And theirs are bestial, hold him less than man : 
And there be those who deem him more than man. 
And dream he dropt from heaven : but my belief 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 19 

In all this matter — so ye care to learn — 

Sir, for ye know that in King Uther's time 

The prince and warrior Gorlois, lie that held 

Tintagil castle by the Cornish sea, 

Was wedded with a winsome wife, Ygerne : 

And daughters had she borne him, — one whereof 

Lot's wife, the Queen of Orkney, Bellicent, 

Ilath ever like a loyal sister cleaved 

To Arthur, — but a son she had not borne. 

And Uther cast upon her eyes of love : 

But she, a stainless wife to Gorlois, 

So loathed the bright dishonor of his love 

That Gorlois and King Uther went to war: 

And overthrown was Gorlois and slain. 

Then Uther in his wrath and heat besieged 

Ygerne within Tintagil, where her men, 

Seeing the mighty swarm about their walls, 

Left her and fled, and Uther enter'd in, 

And there was none to call to but himself. 

So, compass'd by the power of the king, 



20 THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 

Enforced she was to wed lifm in her tears, 
And with a shameful swiftness ; afterward, 
Not many moons, King Uther died himself, 
Moaning and wailing for an heir to rule 
After him, lest the realm should go to wrack. 
And that same night, the night of the new year, 
By reason of the bitterness and grief 
That vext his mother, all before his time 
Was Arthur born, and all as soon as born 
Deliver'd at a secret postern-gate 
To Merlin, to be holden far apart 
Until his hour should come ; because the lords 
Of that fierce day were as the lords of this, 
Wild beasts, and surely would have torn the child 
Piecemeal among them, had they known ; for each 
But sought to rule for his own self and hand, 
And many hated Uther for the sake 
Of Gorlois : wherefore Merlin took the child, 
And gave him to Sir Anton, an old knight 
And ancient friend of Uther ; and his wife 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 21 

Nursed the young prince, and rear'd him with her own ; 

And no man knew : and ever since the lords 

Have foughten like wild beasts among themselves, 

So that the realm has gone to wrack : but now, 

This year, when Merlin (for his hour had come) 

Brought Arthur forth, and set him in the hall, 

Proclaiming, ' Here is Uther's heir, your king,' 

A hundred voices cried, ' Away with him ! 

No king of ours ! a son of Gorlo'is he : 

Or else the child of Anton and no king. 

Or else baseborn.' Yet Merlin thro' his craft 

And while the people clamor'd for a king. 

Had Arthur crown'd ; but after, the great lords 

Banded, and so brake out in open war." _ 

Then while the king debated with himself 
If Arthur were the child of shamefulness, 
Or born the son of Gorlois, after death, 
Or Uther's son, and born before his time, 
Or whether there were truth in anything 
Said by these three, there came to Cameliard, 



22 THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 

With Gawain and young Modred, her two sons, 
Lot's wife, the Queen of Orkney, Belliceut ; 
Whom as. he could, not as he would, the king 
Made feast for, saying, as they sat at meat, 

" A doubtful throne is ice on summer seas — 
Ye come from Arthur's court: think ye this king — 
So few his knights, however brave they be — 
Hath body enow to beat his foemen down ? " 

" O king," she cried, " and I will tell thee : few. 
Few, but all brave, all of one mind with him ; 
For I was near him when the savage yells 
Of Uther's peerage died, and Arthur sat 
Crowned on the dais, and his warriors cried, 
* Be thou the king, and we will work thy will 
Who love thee.' Then the king in low deep tones, 
And simple words of great authority, 
Bound them by so strait vows to his own self. 
That when they rose, knighted from kneeling, some 
Were pale as at the passing of a ghost, 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 23 

Some ilush'd, and others dazed, as one who wakes 
Half-'olinded at the coming of a light. 

" But when he spake and cheer'd his Table Round 
With large, divine, and comfortable words 
Beyond my tongue to tell thee — I beheld 
From eye to eye thro' all their Order flash 
A momentary likeness of the king ; 
And ere it left their faces, thro' the cross 
And those around it and the crucified, 
Down from the casement over Arthur, smote 
Flame-color, vert, and azure, in three rays, 
One falling upon each of three fair queens, 
Who stood in silence near his throne, the friends 
Of Arthur, gazing on him, tall, with bright, 
Sweet faces, who will help him at his need. 

" And there I saw mage Merlin, whose vast wit 
And hundred winters are but as the hands 
Of loyal vassals toiling for their liege. 

•' And near him stood the Lady of the lake, — 



24 THE COMING OF ARTHTJE. 

Who knows a subtler magic than his own, — 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful. 
She gave the king his huge cross-hilted sword, 
Whereby to drive the heathen out : a mist 
Of incense curl'd about her, and her face 
Wellnigh was hidden in the minster gloom, 
But there was heard among the holy hymns 
A voice as of the waters, for she dwells 
Down in a deep, calm, whatsoever storms 
May shake the world, and, when the surface rolls, 
Hath power to walk the waters like our Lord. 

" There likewise I beheld Excalibur 
Before him at his crowning borne, the sword 
That rose from out the bosom of the lake, 
And Arthur row'd across and took it, — rich 
With jewels, elfin Urim, on the hilt, 
Bewildering heart and eye, — the blade so bright 
That men are blinded by it, — on one side, 
Graven in the oldest tongue of all this world, 
' Take me,' but turn the blade and you shall see, 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 25 

And written in the speech ye speak yourself, 
' Cast me away ! ' and sad was Arthur's face 
Taking it, but old Merlin counsell'd him, 
' Take thou and strike ! the time to cast away 
Is yet far off'; so this great brand the king 
Took, and by this will beat his foemen down." 

Thereat Leodogran rejoiced, but thought 
To sift his doublings to the last, and ask'd, 
Fixing full eyes of question on her face, 
" The swallow and the swift are near akin, 
But thou art closer to this noble prince. 
Being his own dear sister"; and she said, 
" Daughter of Gorlois and Ygerne am I" ; 
" And therefore Arthur's sister," asked the King. 
She answer'd, " These be secret things," and sign'd 
To those two sons to pass and let them be. 
And Gawain went, and breaking into song 
Sprang out, and folio w'd by his flying hair 
"Ran like a colt, and leapt at all he saw ; 

2 



26 THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 

But Modred laid his ear beside the doors, 
And there half heard ; the same that afterward 
Struck for the throne, and, striking, found his doom. 

And then the Queen made answer, " What know I ? 
For dark ray mother was in eyes and hair, 
And dark in hair and eyes am I; and dark 
Was Gorlois, yea, and dark was Uther too, 
Wellnijjh to blackness, but this kinb; is fair 
Beyond the race of Britons and of men. 
]Moreover always in my mind I hear 
A cry from out the dawning of my life, 
A mother weeping, and I hear her say, 
" Oh that ye had some brother, pretty one, 
To guard thee on the rough ways of the world.'" 

" Ay," said the King, " and hear ye such a cry ? 
But when did Arthur chance upon thee first? " 

*' O king ! " she cried, " and I will tell tiiee true : 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 27 

He found me first when yet a little maid — 

Beaten I had been for a little fault 

Whereof I was not guilty ; and out I ran 

And flung myself down on a bank of heath, 

And hated this fair w^orld and all therein, 

And wept, and wish'd that I were dead ; and he — 

I know not whether of himself he came, 

Or brought by Merlin, who, they say, can walk 

Unseen, at pleasure — he was at my side. 

And spake sweet words, and comforted my heart, 

And dried my tears, being a child with me. 

And many a time he came, and evermore, 

As I grew, greater grew with me ; and sad 

At times he seem'd, and sad with him was I, 

Stern too at times, and then I loved him not, 

But sweet again, and then I loved him well. 

And now of late I see him less and less, 

But those first days had golden hours for me, 

For then I surely thought he would be king. 



28 THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 

" But let me tell thee now another tale : 
For Bleys, our Merlin's master, as they say, 
Died but of late, and sent his cry to me, 
To hear him speak before he left his life. 
Shrunk like a fairy changeling lay the mage, 
And, when I enter'd, told me that himself 
And Merlin ever served about the king, 
Uther, before he died, and on the night 
Wiien Uther in Tintagil past away 
Moaning and wailing for an heir, the two 
Left the still king, and passing forth to breathe, 
Then from the castle gateway by the chasm 
Descending thro' the dismal night — a night 
In which the bounds of heaven and earth were lost 
Beheld, so high upon the dreary deeps 
It seem'd in heaven — a ship, the shape thereof 
A dragon wing'd, and all from stem to stern 
Bright with a shining people on the decks. 
And gone as soon as seen : and then the two 
Dropt to the cove and watch'd the great sea fall, 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 29 

Wave after wave, each mightier than the last, 

Till, last, a ninth one, gathering half the deep 

And full of voices, slowly rose and plunged 

Roaring, and all the wave was in a flame : 

And down the wave and in the flame was borne 

A naked babe, and rode to Merlin's feet. 

Who stoopt and caught the babe, and cried, ' The King ! 

Here is an heir for Uther ! ' and the fringe 

Of that great breaker, sweeping up the strand, 

Lash'd at the wizard as he spake the word, 

And all at once all round him rose in fire, 

So that the child and he were clothed in fire. 

And presently thereafter follow'd calm, 

Free sky and stars : * And this same child,' he said, 

' Is he who reigns ; nor could I part in peace 

Till this were told.' And saying this the seer 

Went thro' the strait and dreadful pass of death. 

Not ever to be question'd any more 

Save on the further side ; but when I met 

Merlin, and ask'd him if these things were truth, — 



30 THE COMING OF ARTHUK. 

The shining dragon and the naked child 
Descending in the glory of the seas, — 
He laugh'd as is his wont, and ansvver'd me 
In riddling triplets of old time, and said : 

" ' Rain, rain, and sun ! a rainbow in the sky ! 
A young man will be wiser by and by : 
An old man's wit may wander ere he die. 

Rain, rain, and sun ! a rainbow on the lea ! 
And truth is this to me, and that to thee ; 
And truth or clothed or naked let it be. 

Rain, sun, and rain ! and tlie free blossom blows 
Sun, rain, and sun ! and where is he who knows ? 
From the great deep to the great deep he goes.' 

" So Merlin, riddling, anger'd me ; but thou 
Fear not to give this king thine only child, 
Guinevere : so great bards of him will sing- 
Hereafter, and dark sayings from of old 
Ranging and ringing thro' the minds of men, 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 31 

And echo'd by old folk beside their fires 
For comfort after their wage-work is done, 
Speak of the king ; and Merlin in our time 
Hath spoken also, not in jest, and sworn, 
Tho' men may wound him, that he will not die, 
But pass, again to come ; and then or now 
Utterly smite the heathen underfoot, 
Till these and all men hail him for their king." 

She spake and King Leodogran rejoiced, 
But musing " Shall I answer yea or nay ? " 
Doubted and drowsed, nodded and slept, and saw, 
Dreaming, a slope of land that ever grew. 
Field after field, up to a height, the peak 
Haze-hidden, and thereon a phantom king. 
Now looming, and now lost ; and on the slope 
The sword rose, the hind fell, the herd was driven. 
Fire glimpsed ; and all the land from roof and rick 
In drifts of smoke before a rolling wind 
Stream'd to the peak, and mingled with the haze 



32 THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 

And made it thicker ; while the phantom king 

Sent out at times a voice ; and here or there 

Stood one who pointed toward the voice, the rest 

Slew on and burnt, crying, " No king of ours, 

No son of Uther, and no king of ours " ; 

Till with a wink his dream was changed, the haze 

Descended, and the solid earth became 

As nothing, and the king stood out in heaven, 

Crown'd ; and Leodogran awoke, and sent 

Ulfius, and Brastias, and Bedivere 

Back to the court of Arthur answering yea. 

Then Arthur charged his warrior whom he loved 
And honor'd most. Sir Lancelot, to ride forth 
And bring the Queen; — and watch'd him irom the 

gates : 
And Lancelot past away among the flowers, 
(For then was latter April) and return'd 
Among the flowers, in May, with Guinevere. 
To whom arrived, by Dubric the high saint, 



THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 33 

Chief of the church in Britain, and before 

The stateliest of her altar-shrines, the king 

That morn was married, while in stainless white, 

Tiie fah- beginners of a nobler time, 

And glorying in their vows and him, his knights 

Stood round him, and rejoicing in his joy. 

And holy Dubric spread his hands and spake, 

" Reign ye, and live and love, and make the world 

Other, and may thy Queen be one with thee, 

And all this Order of thy Table Round 

Fulfil the boundless pupose of their king." 

Then at the marriage feast came in from Rome, 
The slowly-fading mistress of the world, 
Great lords, who claim'd the tribute as of yore. 
But Arthur spake, " Behold, for these have sworn 
To fight my wars, and worship me their king ; 
The old order changeth, yielding place to new ; 
And we that fight for our fair father Christ, 
Seeing that ye be grown too weak and old 

2# c 



34 THE COMING OF ARTHUR. 

To drive the heathen from your Roman wall, 
No tribute will we pay " : so those great lords 
Drew back in wrath, and Arthur strove witli Rome. 

And Arthur and his knighthood for a space 
Were all one will, and thro' that strength the king 
Drew in the petty princedoms under him. 
Fought, and in twelve great battles overcame 
The heathen hordes, and made a realm and reign'd. 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 



From noiseful arras, and acts of prowess done 
In tournament or tilt, Sir Percivale, 
Whom Arthur and his knighthood call'd The Pure, 
Had pass'd into the silent life of prayer, 
Praise, fast, and alms ; and leaving for the cowl 
The helmet in an abbey far away 
From Camelot, there, and not long after, died. 

And one, a fellow-monk among the rest, 
Arabrosius, loved him much beyond the rest. 
And honor'd him, and wrought into his heart 
A way by love that waken'd love within, 
To answer that which came : and as they sat 



38 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

Beneath a world-old yew-tree, darkening half 
The cloisters, on a gustful April morn 
That puff'd the swaying branches into smoke 
Above them, ere the summer when he died, 
The monk Ambrosius question'd Percivale : — 

"O brother, I have seen this yew-tree smoke, 
Spring after spring, for half a hundred years: 
For never have I known the world without, 
Nor ever strayed beyond the pale : but thee, 
When first thou earnest, — such a courtesy 
Spake thro' the limbs and in the voice, — I knew 
For one of those who eat in Arthur's hall ; 
For good ye are and bad, and like to coins, 
Some true, some light, but every one of you 
Stamp'd with the image of the king ; and now 
Tell me, what drove thee from the Table Round, 
My brother ? was it earthly passion ciost ? " 

, " Nay," said the knight ; " for no such passion mine. 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 89 

But the sweet vision of tlie Holy Grail 

Drove me from all vainglories, rivalries, 

And earthly heats that spring and sparkle out 

Among us in the jousts, while women watch 

Who wins, who falls; and waste the spiritual strength 

Within us, better offer'd up to Heaven.** 

To whom the monk : "The Holy Grail ! — I trust 
We are green in Heaven's eyes ; but here too much 
We moulder, — as to things without I mean, — 
Yet one of your own knights, a guest of ours, 
Told us of this in our refector}^. 
But spake with such a sadness and so low 
We heard not half of what he said. What is it ? 
The phantom of a cup that comes and goes ? " 

" Nay, monk ! what phantom ? " answer'd Percivale. 
" The cup, the cup itself, from which our Lord 
Drank at the last sad supper with his own. 
This, from the blessed land of Aromat — 



40 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

After the day of darkness, when the dead 
Went wandering o'er Moriah, the good saint, 
Arimathjean Joseph, journeying brought 
To Glastonbury, where the winter thorn 
Blossoms at Christmas, mindful of our Lord. 
And there awhile it bode ; and if a man 
Could touch or see it, he was heal'd at once, 
By faith, of all his ills ; but then the times 
Grew to such evil that the Holy cu^d 
Was caught away to Heaven and disappear'd." 

To whom the monk : " From our old books 1 know 
That Joseph came of old to Glastonbury, 
And there the heathen Prince, Arviragus, 
Gave him an isle of marsh whereon to build; 
And there he built with wattles from the marsh 
A little lonely church in days of yore, 
For so they say, these books of ours, but seem 
Mute of this miracle, far as I have read. 
But who first saw the holy thing to-day ? " 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 41 

" A woman," answered Percivale, " a nun, 
And one no further off in blood from me 
Than sister ; and if ever holy maid 
With knees of adoration wore the stone, 
A holy maid ; tho' never maiden glow'd, 
But that was in her earlier maidenhood. 
With such a fervent flame of human love, 
Which being rudely blunted glanced and shot 
Only to holy things : to prayer and praise 
She gave herself, to fast and alms ; and yet, 
Nun as she was, the scandal of the Court, 
Sin against Arthur and the Table Round, 
And the strange sound of an adulterous race 
Across the iron grating of her cell 
Beat, and she pray'd and fasted all the more. 

" And he to whom she told her sins, or what 
Her all but utter whiteness held for sin, 
A man wellnigh a hundred winters old. 
Spake often with her of the Holy Grail, 



42 THE HOLY GKAIL. 

A legend handed down thro' five or six, 

And each of these a hundred winters old, 

From our Lord's time : and when King Arthur made 

His table round, and all men's hearts became 

Clean for a season, surely he had thought 

That now the Holy Grail would come again ; 

But sin broke out. Ah, Christ, that it would come, 

And heal the world of all their wickedness ! 

' O Father ! ' asked the maiden, ' might it come 

To me by prayer and fasting ? ' ' Nay,' said he, 

' I know not, for thy heart is pure as snow.' 

And so she pray'd and fasted, till the sun 

Shone, and the wind blew, thro' her, and I thought 

She might have risen and fioated when I saw her. 

" For on a day she sent to speak with me. 
And when she came to speak, behold her eyes 
Beyond my knowing of them, beautiful. 
Beyond all knowing of them, wonderful, 
Beautiful in the light of holiness. 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 43 

And ' O my brother, Percivale,' she said, 
' Sweet brother, I have seen the Holy Grail : 
For, waked at dead of night,! heard a sound 
As of a silver horn from o'er the hills 
Blown, and I thought it is not Arthur's use 
To hunt by moonlight, and the slender sound 
As from a distance beyond distance grew 
Coming upon me, — O never harp nor horn, 
Nor aught we blow with breath, or touch with hand. 
Was like that music as it came ; and then 
Stream'd thro' my cell a cold and silver beam, 
And down the Jong beam stole the Holy Grail, 
Rose-red with beatings in it, as if alive, 
Till all the white walls of ray cell were dyed 
With rosy colors leaping on the wall ; 
, And then the music faded, and the Grail 
Passed, and the beam decay'd, and from the walls 
The rosy quiverings died into the night. 
So now the Holy Thing is here again 
Among us, brother, fast thou too and pray, 



44 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

And tell thy brother knights to fast and praj, 

That so perchance the vision may be seen 

By thee and those, and all the world be heal'd.' 



" Then leaving the pale nun, I spake of this 
To all men ; and myself fasted and pray'd 
Always, and many among us manj^ a week 
Fasted and pray'd even to the uttermost, 
Expectant of the wonder that would be. 

" And one there was among us, ever moved 
Among us in white armor, Galahad. 
* God make thee good as thou art beautiful,' 
Said Arthur, when he dubb'd him knight ; and none, 
In so young youth, was ever made a knight 
Till Galahad ; and this Galahad, when he heard 
My sister's vision, fill'd me with amaze ; 
His eyes became so like her own, they seem'd 
Hers, and himself her brother more than I. 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 45 

'' Sister or brother none had he ; but some 
Call'd him a son of Lancelot, and some said 
Begotten by enchantment, — chatterers, they, 
Like birds of passage piping up and down 
That gape for flies, — we know not whence they come ; 
For when was Lancelot wanderingly lewd ? 

" But slie, the wan, sweet maiden shore away 
Clean from her forehead all that wealth of hair 
Which made a silken mat-work for her feet ; 
And out of this she plaited broad and long 
A strong sword-belt, and wove with silver thread 
And crimson in the belt a strange device, 
A crimson grail within a silver beam ; 
And saw the bright boy-knight, and bound it on him 
Saying, ' My knight, my love, my knight of heaven. 
O thou, my love, whose love is one with mine, 
I, maiden, round thee, maiden, bind my belt. 
Go forth, for thou shalt see what I have seen, 
And break thro' all, till one will crown thee king 



46 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

Far in the spiritual city ' : and as she spake 
She sent the deathless passion in her eyes 
Thro' him, and made him hers, and laid her mind 
On him, and he believed in her belief. 

" Then came a year of miracle : O brother, 
In our great hall there stood a vacant chair, 
Fashion'd by Merlin ere he past away. 
And carven with strange figures ; and in and out 
The figures, like a serpent, ran a scroll 
Of letters in a tongue no man could read. 
And Merlin call'd it ' The Siege perilous,' 
Perilous for good and ill ; ' for there,' he said, 
'No man could sit but he should lose himself : 
And once by misadvertence Merlin sat 
In his own chair, and so was lost ; but he, 
Galahad, when he heard of Merlin's doom. 
Cried, ' If I lose myself I save myself ! ' 

*' Then on a summer night it came to pass, 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 47 

While the great banquet lay along the hall, 
That Galahad would sit down in Merlin's chair. 

" And all at once, as there we sat, we heard 
A cracking and a riving of the roofs, 
And rending, and a blast, and overhead 
Thunder, and in the thunder was a cry. 
And in the blast there smote along the hall 
A beam of light seven times more clear than day : 
And down the long beam stole the Holy Grail 
All over cover'd with a luminous cloud, 
And none might see who bare it, and it past. 
But every knight beheld his fellow's face 
As in a glory, and all the knights arose, 
And staring each at other like dumb men 
Stood, till I found a voice and sware a vow. 

" I sware a vow before them all, that I 
Because I had not seen the Grail, would ride 
A twelvemonth and a day in quest of it, 



48 THE HOLT GRAIL. 

Until I found and saw it, as the nun 
My sister saw it ; and Galahad sware the vow. 
And good Sir Bors, our Lancelot's cousin, sware, 
And Lancelot sware, and many among the knights, 
And Gawain sware, and louder than the rest. 

" Then spake the monk Ambrosius, asking him, 
' What said the king ? Did Arthur take the vow ? 

" Nay, for my lord, (said Percivale,) the king 
Was not in Hall : for early that same day, 
'Scaped thro' a cavern from a bandit hold, 
An outraged maiden sprang into the hall 
Crying on help : for all her shining hair 
Was smear'd with earth, and either milky arm 
Red-rent with hooks of bramble, and all she wore 
Torn as a sail, that leaves the rope, is torn 
In tempest : so the king arose and went 
To smoke the scandalous hive of those wild bees 
That made such honey in his realm : howbeit 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 49 

Some little of this marvel he too saw, 
Returning o'er the plain that then began 
To darken under Camelot ; whence the king 
Look'd up, calling aloud, ' Lo there ! the roofs 
Of our great Hall are rolled in thunder-smoke ! 
Pray Heaven they be not smitten by the bolt.' 
For dear to Arthur was that hall of ours. 
As having there so oft with all his knights 
Feasted, and as the costliest under heaven. 

" O brother, had you known our mighty hall, 
Which Merlin built for Arthur long ago ! 
For all the sacred mount of Camelot, 
And all the dim rich city, roof by roof, 
Tower after tower, spire beyond spire. 
By grove, and garden-lawn, and rushing brook, 
Climbs to the mighty hall that Merlin built. 
And four great zones of sculpture, set betwixt 
With many a mystic symbol, gird the hall : 
And in the lowest beasts are slaying men, 

3 D 



50 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

And in the second men are slaying beasts, 
And on the third are warriors, perfect men, 
And on the fourth are men with growing wings, 
And over all one statue in the mould 
Of Arthur, made by Merlin, with a crown. 
And peak'd wings pointed to the Northern Star. 
And eastward fronts the statue, and the crown 
And both tlie wings are made of gold, and tlame 
At sunrise till the people in far fields. 
Wasted so often by the heathen hordes, 
Behold it, crying, ' We have still a king.' 

"And, brother, had you known our hall within. 
Broader and higher than any in all the lands ! 
Where twelve great windows blazon Arthur's wars, 
And all the light that falls upon the board 
Streams thro' the twelve great battles of our king. 
Nay, one there is, and at the eastern end, 
Wealthy with wandering lines of mount and mere, 
Where Arthur finds the brand Excalibur. 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 51 

And also one to the west, and counter to it, 
And blank: and who shall blazon it? when and how? 
O then, perchance, when all our wars are done. 
The brand Excalibur will be cast away. 



" So to this hall fidl quickly rode the king, 
In horror lest the work by Merlin wrought. 
Dreamlike, should on the sudden vanish, wrapt 
In unremorscfal folds of rolling fire. 
And in he rode, and up I glanced, and saw 
The golden dragon sparkling over all : 
And many of those who burnt the hold, their arms 
Hack'd, and their foreheads grimed with smoke, and 

sear'd, 
Follow'd, and in among bright faces, ours 
Full of the vision, prest : and then the King 
Spake to me, being nearest, ' Percivale,' 
(Because the Hall was all in tumult — some 
Vowing, and some protesting), ' what is this?' 



52 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

" O brother, when I told him what had chanced, 
My sister's vision, and the rest, his face 
Darken' d, as I have seen it more than once, 
When some brave deed seem'd to be done in vain, 
Darken ; and ' Woe is me, my knights ! ' he cried, 
' Had I been here, ye had not sworn the vow.' 
Bold was mine answer, ' Had thyself been here, 
My king, thou wouldst have sworn.' 'Yea, yea,' 

said he, 
' Art thou so bold and hast not seen the grail ? ' 

" ' Nay, Lord, I heard the sound, I saw the light, 
But since I did not see the Holy Thing, 
I svvare a vow to follow it till I saw.' 

" Then when he asked us, knight by knight, if any 
Had seen it, all their answers were as one, 
* Nay, Lord, and therefore have we sworn our vows.' 

" ' Lo now,' said Arthur, ' have ye seen a cloud .'' 
What go ye into the wilderness to see ? ' 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 53 

" Then Galahad on the sudden, and in a voice 
Shrilling along the hall to Arthur, call'd, 
' But I, Sir Arthur, saw the Holy Grail, 
I saw the Holy Grail and heard a cry — 
O Galahad, and O Galahad, follow me.' 

" ' Ah, Galahad, Galahad,' said the King, ' for such 
As thou art is the vision, not for these. 
Thy holy nun and thou have seen a sign ; 
Holier is none, my Percivale, than she, — 
A sign to maim this Order which I made. 
But you, that follow but the leader's bell,' 
(Brother, the king was hard upon his knights,) 
' Taliessin is our fullest throat of song, 
And one hath sun^j and all the dumb will sinj;. 
Lancelot is Lancelot, and hath overborne 
Five knights at once, and every younger knight, 
Unproven, holds himself as Lancelot, 
Till, overborne by one, he learns, — and ye, 
What are ye ? Galahads, — no, nor Percivales ' 



54 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

(For thus it pleased the king to range me close 

After Sir Galahad) ; ' nay/ said he, ' but men 

With strength and will to right the wrong'd, of power 

To lay the sudden heads of violence flat, 

Knights that in twelve great battles splash'd and dyed 

The strong White Horse in his own heathen blood, — 

But one hath seen, and all the blind will see. 

Go, since your vows are sacred, being made, — 

Yet, for ye know the cries of all my realm 

Pass thro' this hall, how often, O my knights. 

Your places being vacant at my side, 

The chance of noble deeds will come and go 

Unchallenged, Avhile you follow wandering fires 

Lost in the quagmire : many of you, yea most, 

Return no more : ye think I show myself 

Too dark a prophet : come now^, let us meet 

The morrow morn once more in one full field 

Of gracious pastime, that once more the king. 

Before you leave him for this quest, may count 

The yet unbroken strength of all his knights, 

Rejoicing in that Order which he made.' 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 55 

" So when the sun broke next from underground, 
All the great table of our Arthur closed 
And clash'd in such a tourney and so full, 
So many lances broken, — never yet 
Had Camelot seen the like since Arthur came. 
And I myself and Galahad, for a strength 
Was in us from the vision, overthrew 
So many knights that all the people cried, 
And almost burst the barriers in their heat. 
Shouting ' Sir Galahad and Sir Percivale ! * 

" But when the next day brake from underground, — - 
O brother, had you known our Camelot, 
Built by old kings, age after age, so old 
The king himself had fears that it would fall, 
So strange and rich, and dim ; for where the roofs 
Totter'd toward each other in the sky 
Met foreheads all along the street of those 
Who watch'd us pass ; and lower, and where the long 
Rich galleries, lady-laden, weigh'd the necks 



56 THE HOLY GllAIL. 

Of dragons clinging to the crazy walls, 
Thicker than drops from thunder showers of flowers 
Fell, as we past ; and men and boys astride 
On wyvern, lion, dragon, griffin, swan, 
At all the corners, named us each by name, 
Calling ' God speed ! ' but in the street below 
The knights and ladies wept, and rich and poor 
"Wept, and the king himself could hardly speak 
For sorrow, and in the middle street the queen, 
Who rode by Lancelot, wail'd and shriek'd aloud, 
* This madness has come on us for our sins.' 
And then we reach'd the weirdly sculptured gate, 
Where Arthur's wars were render'd mystically, 
And thence departed every one his way. 

" And I was lifted up in heart, and thought 
Of all my late-shown prowess in the lists. 
How my strong lance had beaten down the knights,. 
So many and fiimous names ; and never yet 
Had heaven appear'd so blue, nor earth so green. 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 57 

For all my blood danced in me, and I knew 
That I should light upon the Holy Grail. 

" Thereafter, the dark warning of our king, 
That most of us would follow wandering fires, 
Came like a driving gloom across my mind. 
Then every evil word I had spoken once. 
And every evil thought I had thought of old, 
And every evil deed I ever did. 
Awoke and cried, ' This quest is not for thee.* 
And lifting up mine eyes, I found myself 
Alone, and in a land of sand and thorns, 
And I was thirsty even unto death ; 
And I, too, cried, ' This quest is not for thee.* 

"And on I rode, and when I thought my thirst 
Would slay me, saw deep lawns, and then a brook, 
With one sharp rapid, where the crisping white 
Play'd ever back upon the sloping wave. 
And took both ear and eye ; and o'er the brook 

3* 



58 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

Were apple-trees, and apples by the brook 
Fallen, and on the lawns, ' I will rest here,' 
I said, ' I am not worthy of the quest ' ; 
But even while I drank the brook, and ate 
The goodly apples, all these things at once 
P'ell into dust, and I was left alone, 
And thirsting, in a land of sand and thorns. 

" And then behold a woman at a door 
Spinning, and fair the house whereby she sat ; 
And kind the woman's eyes and innocent, 
And all her bearing gracious ; and she rose 
Opening her arms to meet me, as who should say, 
' Eest here,' but when I touched her, lo ! she too 
Fell into dust and nothing, and the house 
Became no better than a broken shed. 
And in it a dead babe ; and also this 
Fell into dust, and I was left alone. 

" And on I rode, and greater was my thirst. 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 59 

Then flash'd a yellow gleam across the world, 
And where it smote the ploughshare in the field, 
The ploughman left his ploughing, and fell down 
Before it ; where it glitter'd on her pail, 
The milkmaid left her milking, and fell down 
Before it, and I knew not why ; but thought 
' The sun is rising,' tho' the sun had risen. 
Then was I ware of one that on me moved 
In golden armor, with a crown of gold 
About a casque all jewels ; and his horse 
In golden armor jewell'd everywhere : 
And on the splendor came, flashing me blind ; 
And seem'd to me the Lord of all the world, 
Being so huge : but when I thought he meant 
To crush me, moving on me, lo ! he too 
Opened his arms to embrace me as he came, 
And up I went and touch'd him, and he too 
Fell into dust, and I was left alone 
And wearied in a land of sand and thorns. 



60 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

" And on I rode and found a mighty hill, 
And on the top a city wall'd : the spires 
Prick'd with incredible pinnacles into heaven. 
And by the gateway stirr'd a crowd ; and these 
Cried to me, climbing, ' Welcome, Percivale ! 
Thou mightiest and thou purest among men ! ' 
And glad was I and clomb, but found at top 
No man, nor any voice ; and thence I past 
Far thro' a ruinous city, and I saw 
That man had once dwelt there ; but there I found 
Only one man of an exceeding age. 
' Where is that goodly company,' said I, 

* That so cried upon me ? ' and he had 
Scarce any voice to answer, and yet gasp'd 

* Whence and what art thou ? ' and even as he spoke 
Fell into dust, and disnppear'd, and I 

Was left alone once more, and cried, in grief, 
' Lo, if I find the Holy Grail itself. 
And touch it, it will crumble into dust.' 



THE HOLT GRAIL. 61 

" And thence I dropt into a lowly vale, 
Low as the hill was high, and where the vale 
Was lowest found a chapel, and thereby 
A holy hermit in a hermitage, 
To whom I told my phantoms, and he said : 

" ' son, thou hast not true humility, 
The highest virtue, mother of them all ; 
For when the Lord of all things made Himself 
Naked of glory for His mortal change, 
" Take thou my robe," she said, " for all is thine," 
And all her form shone forth with sudden light 
So that the angels were amazed, and she 
Follow'd him down, and like a flying star 
Led on the gray-hair'd wisdom of the East ; 
But her thou hast not known : for what is this 
Thou thoughtest of thy prowess and thy sins ? 
Tiiou hast not lost thyself to save thyself 
As Galahad.' As the hermit made an end, 
In silver armor suddenly Galahad shone 



62 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

Before us, and against the chapel door 

Laid lance, and entered, and we knelt in prayer. 

And there the hermit slaked my burning thirst ; 

And at the sacring of the mass I saw 

The holy elements alone ; but he 

' Saw ye no more ? I, Galahad, saw the Grail, 

The Holy Grail, descend upon the shrine : 

I saw the fiery face as of a child 

That smote itself into the bread, and went, 

And hither am I come ; and never yet 

Hath what thy sister taught me first to see, 

This holy thing, fail'd from my side, nor come 

Cover'd, but moving with me night and day, 

Fainter by day, but always in the night 

Blood-red, and sliding down the blacken'd marsh 

Blood-red, and on the naked mountain top 

Blood-red, and in the sleeping mere below 

Blood-red : and in the strength of this I rode 

Shattering all evil customs everywhere. 

And past thro' Pagan realms, and made them mine. 



THE HOLY GRAIL. G3 

And clash'd ^vith Pagan hordes, and bore them down, 
And broke thro' all, and in the strength of this 
Come victor : but my time is hard at hand, 
And hence I go ; and one will crown me king 
Far in the spiritual city ; and come thou too, 
For thou shalt see the vision when I go.' 

" While thus he spake, his eye, dwelling on mine. 
Drew me, with power upon me, till I grew 
One -with him, to believe as he believed. 
Then when the day began to wane we went. 

" Then rose a hill that none but man could climb, 
Scarr'd with a hundred wintry watercourses, — 
Storm at the top, and, when we gain'd it, storm 
Round us and death ; for every moment glanced 
His silver arms and gloom'd : so quick and thick 
The lightnings here and there to left and right 
Struck, till the dry old trunks about us, dead, 
Yea, rotten with a hundred years of death, 



64 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

Sprang into fire ; and at the base we found 

On either hand, as far as eye could see, 

A great black swamp and of an evil smell, 

Part black, part whiten'd with the bones of men, 

Not to be crost save that some ancient king 

Had built a way, where, linked with many a bridge, 

A thousand piers ran into the Great Sea. 

And Galahad fled along them bridge by bridge, 

And every bridge as quickly as he crost 

Sprang into fire and vanish'd, tho' I yearn'd 

To follow ; and thrice above him all the heavens 

Open'd and blazed with thunder such as seem'd 

Shoutings of all the sons of God : and first 

At once I saw him far on the great sea, 

In silver-shining armor starry-clear ; 

And o'er his head the holy vessel hung 

Clothed in white samite or a luminous cloud. 

And with exceeding swiftness ran the boat, 

If boat it were, — I saw not whence it came. 

And when the heavens open'd and blazed again 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 65 

Roaring, I saw him like a silver star, — 

And had he set the sail, or had the boat 

Become a living creature clad with wings ? 

And o'er his head the hdly vessel hung 

Redder than any rose, a joy to me, 

For now I knew the veil had been withdrawn. 

Then in a moment when they blazed again 

Opening, I saw the least of little stars 

Down on the waste, and straight beyond the star 

I saw the spiritual city and all her spires 

And gateways in a glory like one pearl, 

No larger, tho' the goal of all the saints, 

Strike from the sea; and from the star there shot 

A rose-red sparkle to the city, and there 

Dwelt, and I knew it was the Holy Grail, 

Which never eyes on earth again shall see. 

Then fell the floods of heaven drowning the world. 

And how my feet recross'd the deathful ridge 

No memory in me lives ; but that I touch'd 

The chapel-doors at dawn, I know ; and thence 



GQ THE HOLY GRAIL. 

Taking my war-horse from the holy man, 
Glad that no phantom vext me more, return'd 
To whence I came, the gate of Arthur's wars." 

" O brother," ask'd Arabrosius, " for in sooth 
These ancient books — and they would win thee 

teem. 
Only I find not there this Holy Grail, 
"With miracles and marvels like to these. 
Not all unlike ; which oftentime I read, 
Who read but on my breviary with ease, 
Till my head swims ; and then go forth and pass 
Down to the little thorpe that lies so close, 
And almost plaster'd like a martin's nest 
To these old walls, — and mingle with our folk : 
And knowing every honest face of theirs^ 
As well as ever shepherd knew his sheep. 
And every homely secret in their hearts. 
Delight myself with gossip and old wives, 
And ills and aches, and teethings, lyings-in, 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 67 

And mirthful sayings, children of the place, 
That have no meaning half a league away :, 
Or lulling random squabbles when they rise, 
ChafFerings and chatterings at the market-cross. 
Rejoice, small man, in this small world of mine, 
Yea, even in their hens and in their eggs : 
brother, saving this Sir Galahad 
Came ye on none but phantoms in your quest, 
No man, no woman ? " 

Then, Sir Percivale : 
" All men to one so bound by such a vow 
And women were as phantoms. O my brother, 
Yfhy wilt thou shame me to confess to thee 
How far I falter'd from my quest and vow ? 
For after I had lain so many nights 
A bedmate of the snail and eft and snake, 
In grass and burdock, I was changed to wan 
And meagre, and the vision had not come. 
And then I chanced upon a goodly town 



G8 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

With one great dwelling in the middle of it ; 
"Whither I made, and there was I disarmed 
By maidens each as fair as any flower : 
But when they led me into hall, behold 
The Princess of that castle w^ag the one, 
Brother, and that one only, who had ever 
Made my heart leap ; for when I moved of old 
A slender page about her father's hall, 
And she a slender maiden, all my heart 
Went after her with longing : yet we twain 
Had never kiss'd a kiss, or vow'd a vow. 
And now I came upon her once again, 
And one had wedded her, and he was dead, 
And all his land and w^ealth and state w^ere hers. 
And while I tarried, every day she set 
A banquet richer than the day before 
By me ; for all her longing and her will 
Was toward me as of old ; till one fair morn, 
I walking to and fro beside a stream 
That flash'd across her orchard underneath 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 69 

Her castle v?alls, she stole upon my walk, 

And calling me the greatest of all knights, 

Embraced me, and so kiss'd me the first time, 

And gave herself and all her wealth to me. 

Then I remember'd Arthur's warning word, 

That most of us would follow wandering fires, 

And the quest faded in my heart. Anon, 

The heads of all her people drew to me, 

AVith supplication both of knees and tongue. 

* We have heard of thee : thou art our greatest 

knight : 
Our Lady says it, and we well believe : 
"VVed thou our Lady, and rule over us. 
And thou shalt be as Arthur in our land.' 
O me, my brother ! but one night my vow 
Burnt me within, so that I rose and fled, 
But wail'd and wept, and hated mine own self, 
And ev'n the Holy Quest, and all but her. 
Then after I was join'd with Galahad 
Cared not for her, nor anything upon earth." 



70 THE HOLY GRATL. 

Then said the monk, " Poor men, when yule is cold, 
Must be content to sit by little fires. 
And this am I, so that ye care for me 
Ever so little ; yea, and blest be Heaven 
That brought thee here to this poor house of ours. 
Where all the brethren are so hard, to warm 
My cold heart with a friend : but O the pity 
To find thine own first love once more, — to hold, 
Hold her a wealthy bride within thine arms, 
Or all but hold, and then — cast her aside, 
Foregoing all her sweetness, like a weed. 
For we that want the warmth of double life. 
We that are plagued with dreams of something sweet 
Beyond all sweetness in a life so rich, — 
Ah, blessed Lord, I speak too earthly-wise, 
Seeing I never stray'd beyond the cell, 
But live like an old badger in his earth, 
With earth about him everywhere, despite 
All fast and penance. Saw ye none beside, 
None of your knights ? " 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 71 

" Yea so," said Percivale, 
" One night my pathway swerving east, I saw 
The pehcan on the casque of our Sir Bors 
All in the middle of the rising moon : 
And toward him spurr'd and hail'd him, and he mo, 
And each made joy of either ; then he ask'd, 
* Where is he ? hast thou seen him -- Lancelot ? ' 

' Once,' 
Said good Sir Bors, ' he dash'd across me — mad, 
And maddening what he rode ; and when I cried, 
"Ridest thou then so hotly on a quest 
So holy ?" Lancelot shouted, "Stay me not ! 
I have been the sluggard and I ride apace, 
For now there is a lion in the way." 
So vanish'd.' 

" Then Sir Bors had ridden on 
Softly and sorrowing for our Lancelot. 
Because his former madness, once the talk 
And scandal of our table, had return'd ; 



72 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

For Lancelot's kith and kin adore him so 
That ill to him is ill to them ; to Bors 
Beyond the rest : he well had been content 
Kot to have seen, so Lancelot might have seen, 
The holy cup of healing ; and, indeed. 
Being so clouded with his grief and love, 
Small heart was his after the holy quest : 
If God would "send the vision, well: if not. 
The Quest and he were in the hands of Heaven. 

" And then, with small adventure met, Sir Bors 
Down to the last tongue-tip of Lyonesse rode. 
And found a people there among their crags. 
Our race and blood, a remnant that were left 
Paynim amid their circles, and the stones 
They pitch up straight to heaven ; and their wise men 
AVere strong in that old magic which can trace 
Tlie wandering of the stars, and scoffd at him, 
And this high quest as at a simple thing : 
Told him he foUovv'd — almost Arthur's words — 



THE HOLY GHATL. 73 

A mocking fire : Svhat other fire than he, 
Whereby the blood beats, and the blossom blows, 
And the sea rolls, and all the world is warm'd ? ' 
And when his answer chafed them, the rough crowd. 
Hearing he had a difference with their priests, 
Seized him, and bound and plunged him into a cell 
Of great piled stones ; and lying bounden there 
In darkness thro' innumerable hours 
He heard the hollow-ringing heavens sweep 
Over him, till by miracle — what else ? — 
Heavy as it was, a great stone slipt and fell, 
Such as no wind could move : and thro' the gap 
Glimmer'd the streaming scud : then came a niglit 
Still as the day was loud ; and thro' the gap 
The seven clear stars of Arthur's Table Round, — 
For, brother, so one night, because they roll 
Thro' such a round in heaven, we named the stars, 
Rejoicing in ourselves and in our king, — 
And these like bright eyes of faijiiliar friends 
In on him shone, ' And then to me, to me,' 

4 



74 THE HOLT GRAIL. 

Said good Sir Bors, * beyond all hopes of mine, 
Who scarce had pray'd or ask'd it for myself, — 
Across the seven clear stars, — O grace to me ! — 
In color like the fingers of a hand 
Before a burning taper, the sweet Grail 
Glided and past, and close upon it peal'd 
A sharp quick thunder': afterwards a maid 
Who kept our holy faith among her kin 
In secret, entering, loosed and let him go." 

To whom the monk : " And I remember now 
That pelican on the casque : Sir Bors it was 
Who spake so low and sadly at our board ; 
And mighty reverent at our grace was he : 
A square-set man and honest ; and his eyes, 
An out-door sign of all the warmth within. 
Smiled with his lips, — a smile beneath a cloud. 
But Heaven had meant it for a sunny one : 
Ay, ay, Sir Bors, wh<j else ? but when ye reach'd 
The city, fouij,d ye all your knights return'd, 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 75 

Or was there sooth in Arthur's prophecy? 

Tell me, and what said each, and what the king." 

Then answer'd Percivale, '^ And that can I, 
Brother, and truly ; since the living words 
Of so great men as Lancelot and our king 
Pass not from door to door and out again, 
But sit within the house. O, when we reach'd 
The city, our horses stumbling as they trode 
On heaps of ruin, hornless unicorns, 
Crack'd basilisks, and splinter'd cockatrices, 
And shatter'd talbots, which had left the stones . 
Raw, that they fell from, brought us to the hall. 

" And there sat Arthur on the dais-throne, 
And those that had gone out upon the Quest, — 
Wasted and worn, and but a tithe of them, — 
And those that had not, stood before the king. 
Who, when he saw me, rose, and bade me hail, 
Saying, * A welfare in thine eye reproves 



76 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

Our fear of some disastrous chance for thee 

On hill, or plain, at sea, or flooding ford. 

So fierce a gale made havoc here of late 

Among the strange devices of our kings ; 

Yea, shook this newer, stronger hall of ours, 

And from the statue Merlin moulded for us 

Half wrench'd a golden wing ; but now — the quest, 

This vision — hast thou seen the holy cup, 

That Joseph brought of old to Glastonbury ? ' 

" So when I told him all thyself hast heard, 
Ambrosius, and my fresh but fixt resolve 
To pass away into the quiet life. 
He answer'd not, but, sharply turning, ask'd 
Of Gawain, ' Gawain, was this quest for thee ? 

" ' Nay, lord,' said Gawain, ' not for such as I. 
Therefore I communed with a saintly man. 
Who made me sure the quest was not for me. 
For I was much awearied of the quest. 



THE HOLY GRAIL. » 77 

But found a silk pavilion in a field, 

And merry maidens in it ; and then this gale 

Tore my pavilion from the tenting-pin, 

And blew my merry maidens all about 

With all discomfort ; yea, and but for this 

My twelvemonth and a day were pleasant to me.' 

" He ceased ; and Arthur turn'd to whom at first 
He saw not, for Sir Bors, on entering, push'd 
Athwart the throng to Lancelot, caught his hand, 
Held it, and there, half hidden by him, stood, 
Until the king espied him, saying to him, 

* Hail, Bors ! if ever loyal man and true 

Could see it, theu hast seen the Grail,' and Bors, 

* Ask me not, for I may not speak of it, 
I saw it ' : and the tears were in his eyes. 

" Then there remain'd but Lancelot, for the rest 
Spake but of sundry perils in the storm, 
Perhaps, like him of Cana in Holy Writ, 



78 THE HOLT GRAIL. 

Our Arthur kept his best until the last. 

< Thou, too, my Lancelot,' ask'd the King, ' my friend, 

Our mightiest, hath this quest avail'd for thee ? ' 

" ' Our mightiest ! ' answer'd Lancelot, with a groan, 
*0 king! ' and when he paused, methought I spied 
A dying fire of madness in his eyes, 
* O king, my friend, if friend of thine I be, 
Happier are those that welter in their sin, 
Swine in the mud, that cannot see for slime, 
Slime of the ditch ; — but in me lived a sin 
So strange, of such a kind, that all of pure, 
Noble, and knightly in me twined and clung 
Round that one sin, until the wholesome flower 
And poisonous grew together, each as each, 
Not to be pluck'd asunder ; and when thy knights 
Sware, I sware with them only in the hope 
That could I touch or see the Holy Grail 
They might be pluck'd asunder : then I spake 
To one most holy saint, who wept and said 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 79 

That save they could be pluck'd asunder all 

My quest were but in vain ; to whom I vow'd 

That I would work according as he will'd. 

And forth I went, and while I yearn'd and strove 

To tear the twain asunder in my heart, 

My madness came upon me as of old 

And whipt me into waste fields far away. 

There was I beaten down by little men, 

Mean knights, to whom the moving of my sword 

And shadow of my spear had been enow 

To scare them from me once ; and then I came 

AH in my folly to the naked shore, 

Wide flats where nothing but coarse grasses grew, 

But such a blast, my king, began to blow, 

So loud a blast along the shore and sea. 

Ye could not hear the waters for the blast, 

Tho' heapt in mounds and ridges all the sea 

Drove like a cataract, and all tjie sand 

Swept like a river, and the clouded heavens 

Were shaken with the motion and the sound. 



80 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

And blackening in the sea-foam sway'd a boat 

Half-swallow'd in it, anclior'd with a chain ; 

And in mj- madness to myself I said, 

" I will embark and I will lose myself, 

And in the great sea wash away my sin." 

I burst the chain, I sprang into the boat. 

Seven days I drove along the dreary deep, 

And with me drove the moon and all the stars ; 

And the wind fell, and on the seventh night 

I heard the shingle grinding in the surge, 

And felt the boat shock earth, and looking up 

Behold the enchanted towers of Carbonek, 

A castle like a rock upon a rock, 

"With chasm-like portals open to the sea. 

And steps that met the breaker : there was none 

Stood near it but a lion on each side, 

That kept the entry, and the moon was full. 

Then from the boat I leapt, and up the stairs. 

There drew my sword. "With sudden-flaring manes 

Those two great beasts rose upright like a man. 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 81 

Each gript a shoulder, and I stood between, 

And, when I would have smitten them, heard a voice, 

" Doubt not, go forward ; if thou doubt, the beasts 

Will tear thee piecemeal " ; then with violence 

The sword was dash'd from out my hand and fell. 

And up into the sounding hall I past 

But nothing in the sounding hall I saw. 

No bench nor table, painting on the wall. 

Or shield of knight ; only the rounded moon 

Thro' the tall oriel on the rolling sea. 

But always in the quiet house I heard, 

Clear as a lark, high o'er me as a lark, 

A sweet voice singing in the topmost tower 

To the eastward : up I climb'd a thousand steps 

With pain : as in a dream I seem'd to climb 

Forever : at the last I reach'd a door, 

A light was in the crannies, and I heard 

" Glory and joy and honor to our Lord 

And to the Holy Vessel of the Grail." 

Then in my madness I essay'd the door, 

4* 1 



82 THE HOLY GRAIL. 

It gave, and thro' a stormy glare, a heat 
As from a seven-times-heated furnace, I, 
blasted and burnt, and blinded as I was, 
With such a fierceness that I swoon'd away. 
O, yet methought I saw the Holy Grail, 
All pall'd in crimson samite, and around 
Great angels, awful shapes, and wings and eyes. 
And but for all my madness and my sin, 
And then my swooning, I had sworn I saw 
That which I saw ; but what I saw was veil'd 
And cover'd ; and this quest was not for me/ 

" So speaking, and here ceasing, Lancelot left 
The hall long silent, till Sir Gawain — nay. 
Brother, I need not tell thee foohsh words, — 
A reckless and irreverent knight was he. 
Now bolden'd by the silence of his king, — 
Well, I will tell thee : ' O king, my liege,' he said, 
* Hath Gawain fail'd in any quest of thine ? 
When have I stmted stroke in foughten field ? 



THE HOLT GRAIL. §3 

But as for thine, my good friend, Percivale, 
Thy holy nun and thou have driven men mad, 
Yea, made our mightiest madder than our least. 
But by mine eyes and by mine ears I swear, 
I will be deafer than the blue-eyed cat, 
And thrice as blind as any noonday owl, 
To holy virgins in their ecstasies. 
Henceforward.' 



o> 



" ' Deafer,' said the blameless Kinor. 
* Gawain, and blinder unto holy things 
Hope not to make thyself by idle vows. 
Being too blind to have desire to see. 
But if indeed there came a sign from heaven, 
Blessed are Bors, Lancelot, and Percivale, 
For these liave seen according to their sight. 
For every fiery prophet in old times, 
And all the sacred madness of the bard, 
When God made music thro' them, could but speak 
His music by the framework and the chord, 
A.nd as ye saw it ye have spoken truth. 



84 THE HOLT GRAIL. 

*' ' Nay — but thou errest, Lancelot : never yet 
Could all of true and noble in knight and man 
Twine round one sin, whatever it might be, 
With such a closeness, but apart there grew. 
Save that he were the swine thou spakest of. 
Some root of knighthood and pure nobleness ; 
Whereto see thou, that it may bear its flower. 

" ' And spake I not too truly, my knights ? 
Was I too dark a prophet when I said 
To those who went upon the Holy Quest 
That most of them would follow wandering fires, 
Lost in the quagmire, — lost to me and gone, 
And left me gazing at a barren board. 
And a lean order — scarce return'd a tithe — 
And out of those to whom the vision came 
My greatest hardly will believe he saw ; 
A,nother hath beheld it afar off, 
And leaving human wrongs to right themselves, 
Cares but to pass into the silent life. 
And one hath had the vision face to face, 



THE HOLY GRAIL. 85 

And now his chair desires him here in vain, 
However they may crown him otherwhere. 

" *And some among you held that if the king 
Had seen the sight he would have sworn the vow - 
Not easily, seeing that the king must guard 
That which he rules, and is but as the hind 
To whom a space of land is given to plough, 
Who may not wander from the allotted field 
Before his WTDrk be done ; but, being done, 
Let visions of the night or of the day 
Come, as they will ; and many a time they come, 
Until this earth he walks on seems not earth. 
This light that strikes his eyeball is not light, 
This air that smites his forehead is not air 
But vision — yea, his very hand and foot — 
In moments when he feels he cannot die, 
And knows himself no vision to himself. 
Nor the high God a vision, nor that One 
Who rose again : ye have seen what ye have seen.* 

" So spake the king : I knew not all he meant." 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 



King Arthur made new knights to fill the gap 
Left by the Holy Quest ; and as he sat 
In hall at old Caerleon, the high doors 
Were softly sunder'd, and thro' these a youth, 
Pelleas, and the sweet smell of the fields 
Past, and the sunshine came along with him. 

" Make me thy knight, because I know, Sir King, 
All that belongs to knighthood, and I love," 
Such was his cry ; for having heard the king 
Had let proclaim a tournament — the prize 
A golden circlet and a knightly sword, 
Full fain had Pelleas for his lady won 



90 PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 

The golden circlet, for himself the sword : 

And there were those who knew him near the king 

And promised for him : and Arthur made him knight. 

And this new knight, Sir Pelleas of the isles — 
But lately come to his inheritance, 
And lord of many a barren isle was he — 
Riding at noon, a day or twain before. 
Across the forest call'd of Dean, to find 
Caerleon and the king, had felt the sun 
Beat like a strong knight on his helm, and reel'd 
Almost to falling from his horse ; but saw 
Near him a mound of even-sloping side, 
Whereon a hundred stately beeches grew, 
And here and there great hollies under them. 
But for a mile all round was open space, 
And fern and heath : and slowly Pelleas drew 
To that dim day, then binding his good horse 
To a tree, cast himself down ; and as he lay 
At random looking over the brown earth 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 91 

Thro' that green-glooming twih'ght of the grove, 
It seem'd to Pelleas that the fern without 
Burnt as a living fire of emeralds, 
So that his eyes were dazzled looking at it. 
Then o'er it crost the dimness of a cloud 
Floating, and once the shadow of a bird 
Flying, and then a fawn ; and his eyes closed. 
And since he loved all maidens, but no maid 
In special, half awake he whisper'd, " Where ? 
O where ? I love thee, tho' I know thee not. 
For fair thou art and pure as Guinevere, 
And I will make thee with my spear and sword 
As famous — O my queen, my Guinevere, 
For I will be thine Arthur when we meet." 

Suddenly waken'd with a sound of talk 
And laughter at the limit of the wood, 
And glancing thro' the hoary boles, he saw. 
Strange as to some old prophet might have seem'd 
A vision hovering on a sea of fire, 



92 PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 

Damsels in divers colors like the cloud 

Of sunset and sunrise, and all of them 

On horses, and the horses richly trapt 

Breast-high in that bright line of bracken stood : 

And all the damsels talk'd confusedly, 

And one was pointing this way, and one that, 

Because the way was lost. 

And Pelleas rose, 
And loosed his horse, and led him to the liojht. 
There she that seem'd the chief among them, said, 
" In happy time behold our pilot-star. 
Youth, we are damsels-errant, and we ride, 
Arm'd as ye see, to tilt against the knights 
There at Caerleon, but have lost our way : 
To right ? to left ? straight forward ? back again ? 
Which? tell us quickly." 

And Pelleas gazing thought, 
" Is Guinevere herself so beautiful ? " 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 93 

For large her violet eyes look'd, and her bloom 

A rosy dawn kindled in stainless heavens, 

And round her limbs, mature in womanhood, 

And slender was her hand and small her shape, 

And but for those large eyes, the haunts of scorn, 

She might have seem'd a toy to trifle with, 

And pass and care no more. But while he gazed 

The beauty of her flesh abash'd the boy, 

As tho' it were the beauty of her soul : 

For as the base man, judging of the good, 

Puts his own baseness in him by default 

Of will and nature, so did Pelleas lend 

All the young beauty of his own soul to hers, 

Believing her ; and when she spake to him, 

Stammer'd, and could not make her a reply. 

For out of the waste islands had he come. 

Where saving his own sisters he had known 

Scarce any but the women of his isles. 

Rough wives, that laugh'd and scream'd against the gulls, 

Makers of nets, and living from the sea. 



94: PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 

Then with a slow smile turn'd the ladj round 
And look'd upon her people ; and as when 
A stone is flung into some sleeping tarn, 
The circle widens till it lip the marge, 
Spread the slow smile thro' all her company. 
Three knights were thereamong ; and they too smiled, 
Scorning him ; for the lady was Ettarre, 
And she was a great lady in her land. 



Again she said, " O wild and of the woods, 
Knowest thou not the fashion of our speech ? 
Or have the Heavens but given thee a fair face, 
Lacking a tongue ? " 

" O damsel," answer'd he, 
" I woke from dreams ; and coming out of gloom 
Was dazzled by the sudden light, and crave 
Pardon : but will ye to Caerleon ? I 
Go likewise : shall I lead you to the King ? " 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 95 

" Lead then," she said ; and thro' the woods they went. 

And while they rode, the meaning in his eyes, 

His tenderness of manner, and chaste awe. 

His broken utterances and bashfulness, 

Were all a burden to her, and in her heart 

She mutter'd, " I have lighted on a fool, 

Raw, yet so stale ! " But since her mind was bent 

On hearing, after trumpet blown, her name 

And title, " Queen of Beauty," in the lists 

Cried — and beholding him so strong, she thought 

That perad venture he will fight for me, * 

And win the circlet : therefore flatter'd him, 

Being so gracious, that he wellnigh deem'd 

His wish by hers was echo'd ; and her knights 

And all her damsels too were gracious to him, 

For she was a great lady. 

And when they reach'd 
Caerleon, ere they past to lodging, she, 



96 PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 

Taking his hand, " O the strong hand," she said, 
" See ! look at mine ! but wilt thou fight for me, 
And win me this fine circlet, Pelleas, 
That I may love thee ? " 

Then his helpless heart 
Leapt, and he cried, " Ay ! wilt thou if I win ? " 
"Ay, that will I," she answer'd, and she laugli'd, 
And straitly nipt the hand, and flung it from her ; 
Then glanced askew at those three knights of hers, 
Till all her ladies laugh'd along with her. 

" O happy world," thought Pelleas, " all, meseems, 

Are happy ; I the happiest of them all." 
» 
Nor slept that night for pleasure in his blood, 

And green wood-ways, and eyes among the leaves ; 

Then being on the morrow knighted, sware 

To love one only. And as he came away, 

The men who met him rounded on their heels 



PELLEAS AND ETTAllRE^ 97 

And wonder'd after him, because his face 
Shone like the countenance of a priest of old 
Against the flame about a sacrifice 
Kindled by fire from heaven : so glad was he. 

Then Arthur made vast banquets, and strange knights 
From the four winds came in : and each one sat, 
Tho' served with choice from air, land, stream, and sea, 
Oft in mid-banquet measuring with his eyes 
His neighbor's make and might : and Pelleas look'd 
Noble among the noble, for he dream'd 
His lady loved him, and he knew himself 
Loved of the Kina: : and him his new-made knight 
Worshipt, whose lightest whisper moved him more 
Than all the ranged reasons of the world. 

Then blush'd and brake the morning of the jousts, 
And this was call'd " The Tournament of Youth " : 
For Arthur, loving his young knight, withheld 
His older and his mightier from the lists, 

5 G 



95 PELLEAS AND ETTAREE. 

That Pelleas might obtain his lady's love, 
According to her promise, and remain 
Lord of the tourney. And Arthur had the jousts 
Down in the flat field by the shore of Usk 
Holden : the gilded parapets were crown'd 
With faces, and the great tower fiU'd with eyes 
Up to the summit, and the trumpets blew. 
There all day long Sir Pelleas kept the field 
With honor : so by that strong hand of his 
The sword and golden circlet were achieved. 

Then rang the shout his lady loved : the heat 
Of pride and glory fired her fiice ; her eye 
Sparkled ; she caught the circlet from his lance, 
And there before the people crown'd herself: 
So for the last time she was gracious to him. 

Then at Caerleon for a space — her look 
Bright for all others, cloudier on her knight — 
Linger'd Ettarre : and seeing Pelleas droop, 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 99 

Said Guinevere, " We marvel at thee much, 

damsel, wearing this unsunny face 

To him who won thee glory ! " And she said, 

" Had ye not held your Lancelot in your bower, 

My Queen, he had not won." Whereat the Queen, 

As one whose foot is bitten by an ant. 

Glanced down upon her, turn'd and went her way. 

But after, when her damsels, and herself. 
And those three knights all set their faces home, 
Sir Pelleas follow'd. She that saw him cried, 
" Damsels — and yet I should be shamed to say it — 

1 cannot bide Sir Baby. Keep him back 
Among yourselves. Would rather that we had 
Some rough old knight who knew the worldly way, 
Albeit grizzlier than a bear, to ride 

And jest with : take him to you, keep him off, 
And pamper him with papmeat, if ye will, 
Old milky fables of the wolf and sheep. 
Such as the wholesome mothers tell their boys. 

LOfC. 



100 PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 

Nay, should ye try him with a merry one 

To find his mettle, good : and if he fly us, 

Small matter ! let him." This her damsels heard, 

And mindful of her small and cruel hand, 

They, closing round him thro' the journey home, 

Acted her hest, and always from her side 

Restrain'd him with all manner of device. 

So that he could not come to speech with her. 

And when she gain'd her castle, upsprang the bridge, 

Down rang the grate of iron thro' the groove. 

And he was left alone in open field. 

" These be the ways of ladies," Pelleas thought, 
" To those wlio love them, trials of our faith. 
Yea, let her prove me to the uttermost, 
For loyal to the uttermost am I." 
So made his moan ; and, darkness falling, sought 
A priory not far off, there lodged, but rose 
With morning every day, and, moist or dry, 
Full-arm'd upon his charger all day long 
Sat by the walls, and no one open'd to him. 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 101 

And this persistence turn'd her scorn to wrath. 
Then calling her three knights, she charged them, " Out ! 
And drive him from the walls." And out they came, 
But Pelleas overthrew them as they dash'd 
Against him one by one ; and these return'd, 
But still he kept his watch beneath the wall. 

Thereon her wrath became a hate ; and once, 
A week beyond, while walking on the walls 
With her three knights, she pointed downward, " Look, 
He haunts me — I cannot breathe — besieges me ; 
Down ! strike him ! put my hate into your strokes, 
And drive him from my walls." And down they went, 
And Pelleas overthrew them one by one; 
And from the tower above him cried Ettarre, 
" Bind him, and bring him in." 

He heard her voice ; 
Then let the strong hand, which had overthrown 
Her minion-knights, by those he overthrew 
Be bounden straight, and so they brought him in. 



102 PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 

Then when he came before Ettarre, the sight 
Of her rich beauty made him at one glance 
More bondsman in his heart than in his bonds. 
Yet with good cheer he spake, " Behold me, Lady, 
A prisoner, and the vassal of thy will ; 
And if thou keep me in thy donjon here. 
Content am I so that see thy face 
But once a day : for I have sworn my vows. 
And thou hast given thy promise, and 1 know 
That all these pains are trials of my faith. 
And that thyself, when thou hast seen me strain'd 
And sifted to the utmost, wilt at length 
Yield me thy love and know me for thy knight." 

Then she began to rail so bitterly, 
With all her damsels, he was stricken mute ; 
But when she raock'd his vows and the great King, 
Lighted on words : " For pity of thine own self. 
Peace, Lady, peace : is he not thine and mine ? " 
^' Thou fool," she said, " I never heard his voice 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 103 

But long'd to break away. Unbind him now, 
And thrust him out of doors ; for save he be 
Fool to the midmost marrow of his bones, 
He will return no more." And those, her three, 
Laugh'd, and unbound, and thrust him from the gate. 

And after this, a week beyond, again 
She call'd them, saying, " There he watches yet, 
There like a dog before his master's door ! 
Kick'd, he returns : do ye not hate him, ye ? 
Ye know yourselves : how can ye bide at peace, 
Affronted with his fulsome innocence ? 
Are ye but creatures of the board and bed, 
No men to strike ? Fall on him all at once, 
And if ye slay him I reck not : if ye fail, 
Give ye the slave mine order to be bound. 
Bind him as heretofore, and bring him in : 
It may be ye shall slay him in his bonds." 

She spake ; and at her will they couch'd their spears, 



104 PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 

Three against one : and Gawain passing by, 
Bound upon solitary adventure, saw- 
Low down beneath the shadow^ of those towers 
A villany, three to one : and thro' his heart 
The fire of honor and all noble deeds 
Flash'd, and he cali'd, " I strike upon thy side — 
The caitiffs ! " " Nay," said Pelleas, " but forbear 
He needs no aid who doth his lady's will." 

So Gawain, looking at the villany done, 
Forbore, but in his heat and eagerness 
Trembled and quiver'd, as the dog, w^ithheld 
A moment from the vermin that he sees 
Before him, shivers, ere he springs and kills. 

And Pelleas overthrew them, one to three ; 
And they rose up, and bound, and brought him in. 
Then first her anger, leaving Pelleas, burn'd 
Full on her knights in many an evil name 
Of craven, weakling, and thrice-beaten hound : 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE* 105 

*' Yet, take him, ye that scarce are fit to touch, 
Far less to bind, your victor, and thrust him out, 
And let who will release him from his bonds. 
And if he comes again " — there she brake short ; 
And Pelleas answer'd, " Lady, for indeed 
I loved you and I deem'd you beautiful, , 

I cannot brook to see your beauty marr'd 
Thro' evil spite : and if ye love me not, 
I cannot bear to dream you so forsworn : 
I had liefer ye were worthy of my love, 
Than to be loved again of you — farewell ; 
And tho' ye kill ray hope, not yet my love, 
Vex not yourself: ye will not see me more." 

While thus he spake, she gazed upon the man 
Of princely bearing, tho' in bonds, and thought, 
" Why have I push'd him from me ? this man loves, 
If love there be : yet him I loved not. Why ? 
I deem'd him fool ? yea, so ? or that in him 
A something — was it nobler than myself? — 
5* 



106 PELLEAS AND ETTAKRE. 

Seem'd my reproach ? He is not of my kind. 
He could not love me, did he know me well. 
Nay, let him go — and quickly." And her knights 
Laugh'd not, but thrust him bounden out of door. 

Forth sprang Gawain, and loosed him from his bonds, 
And flung them o'er the walls ; and afterward, 
Shaking his hands, as from a lazar's rag, 
" Faith of my body," he said, " and art thou not — 
Yea thou art he, whom late our Arthur made 
Knight of his table ; yea and he that won 
The circlet ? wherefore hast thou so defamed 
Thy brotherhood in me and all the rest, 
As let these caitiffs on thee work their will ? " 

And Pelleas answer'd, " O, their wills are hers 
For whom I won the circlet ; and mine, hers, 
Thus to be bounden, so to see her face, 
Marr'd tho' it be with spite and mockery now. 
Other than when I found her in the woods : 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 107 

And tho' she hath me bounden but in spite, 
And all to flout me, when they bring me in, 
Let me be bounden, I shall see her face ; 
Else must I die thro' mine unhappiness." 

And Gawain answer'd kindly tho' in scorn, 
" Why, let my lady bind me if she will. 
And let my lady beat me if she will : 
But an she send her delegate to thrall 
These fighting hands of mine — Christ kill me then 
But I will slice him handless by the wrist, 
And let my lady sear the stump for him. 
Howl as he may. But hold me for your friend : 
Come, ye know nothing : here I pledge my troth, 
Yea, by the honor of the Table Round, 
I will be leal to thee and work thy work, 
And tame thy jailing princess to thine hand. 
Lend me thine horse and arms, and I will say 
That I have slain thee. She will let me in 
To hear the manner of thy fight and fall ; 



108 PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 

Then, when I come within her counsels, then 

From prune to vespers will I chant thy praise 

As prowest knight and truest lover, more 

Than any have sung thee living, till she long 

To have thee back in lusty life again. 

Not to be bound, save by white bonds and warm, 

Dearer than freedom. Wherefore now thy horse 

And armor : let me go : be comforted : 

Give me three days to melt her fancy, and hope 

The third night hence will bring thee news of gold." 

Then Pelleas lent his horse and all his arms, 
Saving the goodly sword, his prize, and took 
Gawain's, and said, " Betray me not, but help — 
Art thou not he whom men call light-of-love ? " 

*' Ay," said Gawain, " for women be so light." 
Then bounded forward to the castle walls. 
And raised a bugle hanging from his neck, 
And winded it, and that so musically 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 109 

That all the old echoes hidden in the wall 
Rang out like hollow woods at huntingtide. 

Up ran a score of damsels to the tower ; 
" Avaunt," they cried, " our lady loves thee not." 

But Gawain lifting up his visor said, 
" Gawain am I, Gawain of Arthur's court, 
And I have slain this Pelleas whom ye hate : 
Behold his horse and armor. Open gate, 
And I will make you merry." 

And down they ran, 
Her damsels, crying to their lady, " Lo ! 
Pelleas is dead — he told us — he tl\at hath 
His horse and armor : will ye let liim in ? 
He slew him ! Gawain, Gawain of the court, 
Sir Gawain — there he waits beloAv the wall. 
Blowing his bugle as who should say him nay." 

And so, leave given, straight on thro' open door 



110 FELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 

Rocle Gawain, whom she greeted courteously. 
" Dead, is it so ? " she ask'd. " Ay, ay," said he, 
" And oft in dying cried upon your name." 
" Pity on him," she answer'd, " a good knight, 
But never let me bide one hour at peace." 
" Ay," thought Gawain, " and ye be fair enow : 
But I to your dead man have given my troth, 
That whom ye loathe him will I make you love." 

So those three days, aimless about the land, 
Lost in a doubt, Pelleas wandering 
Waited, until the third night brought a moon 
With promise of large light on woods and ways. 

The night was hot : he could not rest, but rode 
Ere midnight to her walls, and bound his horse 
Hard by the gates. Wide open were the gates, 
And no watch kept ; and in thro' these he past, 
And heard but his own steps, and his own heart 
Beating, for nothinor moved but his own self, 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. IH 

And his own shadow. Then he crest the court, 
And saw the postern portal also wide 
Yawning ; and up a slope of garden, all 
Of roses white and red, and wild ones mixt 
And overgrowing them, went on, and found. 
Here too, all hush'd below the mellow moon, 
Save that one rivulet from a tiny cave 
Came lightening downward, and so spilt itself 
Among the roses, and was lost again. ^ 

Then was he ware that white pavilions rose, 
Three from the bushes, gilden-peakt : in one, 
Red after revel, droned her lurdan knights 
Slumbering, and their three squires across their feet : 
In one, their malice on the placid lip 
Froz'n by sweet sleep, four of her damsels lay : 
And in the third, the circlet of the jousts 
Bound on her brow, were Gawain and Ettarre. 

Back, as a hand that pushes thro' the leaf 



112 PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 

To find a nest and feels a snake, he drew : 
Back, as a coward slinks from what he fears 
To cope with, or a traitor proven, or hound 
Beaten, did Pelleas in an utter shame 
Creep with his shadow thro' the court again, 
Fingering at his sword-handle until he stood 
There on the castle-bridge once more, and thought, 
" I will go back, and slay them where they lie." 

And so went back and seeing them yet in sleep 
Said, " Ye, that so dishallow the holy sleep, 
Your sleep is death," and drew the sword, and thought, 
*' What ! slay a sleeping knight ? the King hath bound 
And sworn me to this brotherhood " ; again, 
" Alas that ever a knight should be so false." 
Then turn'd, and so return'd, and groaning laid 
The naked sword athwart their naked throats. 
There left it, and them sleeping ; and she lay, 
The circlet of the tourney round her brows, 
And the sword of the tourney across her throat. 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 113 

And forth he past, and mounting on his horse 
Stared at her towers that, larger than themselves 
In their own darkness, throng'd into the moon. 
Then crush'd the saddle with his thighs, and clench'd 
His hands, and madden'd with himself and moan'd : 

" Would they have risen against me in their blood 
At the last day ? I might have answer'd them 
Even before high God. O towers so strong, 
So solid, would that even while I gaze 
The crack of earthquake shivering to your base 
Split you, and Hell burst up your harlot roofs 
Bellowing, and charr'd you thro' and thro' within, 
Black as the harlot's heart — hollow as a skull ! 
Let the fierce east scream thro' your eyelet-holes, 
And whirl the dust of harlots round and round 
In dung and nettles ! hiss, snake — I saw him there — 
Let the fox bark, let the wolf yell. Who yells 
Here in the still sweet summer night, but I — 
I, the poor Pelleas whom she call'd her fool ? 



114 PELLEAS AND ETTARRE, 

Fool, beast — he, she, or I ? myself most fool ; 
Beast too, as lacking human wit — disgraced, 
Dishonor'd all for trial of true love — 
Love ? — we be all alike : only the king 
Hath made us fools and liars. O noble vows ! 

great and sane and simple race of brutes 
That own no lust because they have no law ! 
For why should I have loved her to my shame ? 

1 loathe her, as I loved her to my shame. 
I never loved her, I but lusted for her — 
Away — " 

He dash'd the rowel into his horse, 
And bounded forth and vanish'd thro' the night. 

Then she, that felt the cold touch on her throat, 
Awaking knew the sword, and turn'd herself 
To Gawain : " Liar, for thou hast not slain 
This Pelleas ! here he stood and might have slain 
Me and thyself." And he that tells the tale 
Says that her ever- veering fancy turn'd 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 115 

To Pelleas, as the one true kniglit on earth, 
And only lover ; and thro' her love her life 
Wasted and pined, desiring him in vain. 

But he by wild and way, for half the night, 
And over hard and soft, striking the sod 
From out the soft, the spark from off the hard, 
Rode till the star above the wakening sun, 
Beside that tower where Percivale was cowl'd. 
Glanced from the rosy forehead of the dawn. 
For so the words were flash'd into his heart 
He knew not whence or wherefore : " O sweet star, 
Pure on the virgin forehead of the dawn." 
And there he would have wept, but felt his eyes 
Harder and drier than a fountain bed 
In summer : thither came the village girls 
And linger'd talking, and they come no more 
Till the sweet heavens have fiU'd it from the heights 
Again with living waters in the change 
Of seasons : hard his eyes ; harder his heart 



116 PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 

Seem'd ; but so weary were his limbs, that he, 
Gasping, " Of Arthur's hall am I, but here, 
Here let me rest and die," cast liimself down, 
And gulf d his griefs in inmost sleep ; so lay, 
Till shaken by a dream, that Gawain fired 
The hall of Merlin, and the morning star 
Eeel'd in the smoke, brake into flame, and fell. 

He woke, and being ware of some one nigh, 
Sent hands upon him, as to tear him, crying, 
" False ! and I held thee pure as Guinevere." 

But Percivale stood near him and replied, 
"Am I but false as Guinevere is pure? 
Or art thou mazed with dreams ? or being one 
Of our free-spoken Table hast not heard 
That Lancelot " — there he check'd himself and paused. 

Then fared it with Sir Pelleas as with one 
Who gets a wound in battle, and the sword 
That made it plunges thro' the wound again. 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 117 

And pricks it deeper : and he shrank and wail'd, 
" Is the Queen false ? " and Percivale was mute. 
" Have any of our Round Table held their vows ? " 
And Percivale made answer not a word. 
*' Is the king true ? " " The king ! " said Percivale. 
'' Why then let men couple at once with wolves. 
"What ! art thou mad ? " 

But Pelleas, leaping up, 
Ran thro' the doors and vaulted on his horse 
And fled : small pity upon his horse had he, 
Or on himself, or any, and when he met 
A cripple, one that held a hand for alms — 
Hunch'd as he was, and like an old dwarf-elm 
That turns its back on the salt blast, the boy 
Paused not but overrode him, shouting, " False, 
And false with Gawain ! " and so left him bruised 
And batter'd, and fled on, and hill and wood 
Went ever streaming by him till the gloom. 
That follows on the turning of the world, 



118 PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 

Darkeiid the common path : he twitch'd the reins, 
And made his beast that better knew it, swerve 
Now off it and now on ; but when he saw 
High up in heaven the hall that Merlin built, 
Blackening against the dead-green stripes of even, 
" Black nest of rats," he groan'd, "ye build too high." 

Not long thereafter from the city gates 
Issued Sir Lancelot riding airily, 
Warm with a gracious parting from the Queen, 
Peace at his heart, and gazing at a star 
And marvelling what it was : on whom the boy. 
Across the silent seeded meadow-grass 
Borne, clash'd : and Lancelot, saying, " What name hast 

thou 
That ridest here so blindly and so hard ? " 
" I have no name," he shouted, " a scourge am I, 
To lash the treasons of the Table Round." 
*' Yea, but thy name ? " "I have many names," he cried: 
" I am wrath and shame and hate and evil fame. 



PELLEAS AND ETTARRE. 119 

And like a poisonous wind I pass to blast 

And blaze the crime of Lancelot and the Queen." 

" First over me," said Lancelot, '• shalt thou pass." 

" Fight therefore," yell'd the other, and either knight 

Drew back a space, and when they closed, at once 

The weary steed of Pelleas floundering flung 

His rider, who called out from the dark field, 

" Thou art false as Hell : slay me : I have no sword." 

Then Lancelot, " Yea, between thy lips — and sharp ; 

But here will I disedge it by thy death." 

" Slay then," he shriek'd, " my will is to be slain." 

And Lancelot, with his heel upon the fall'n, 

Rolling his eyes, a moment stood, then spake : 

" Rise, weakling ; I am Lancelot ; say thy say." 

And Lancelot slowly rode his war-horse back 
To Camelot, and Sir Pelleas in brief while. 
Caught his unbroken limbs from the dark field, 
And follow'd to the city. It chanced that both 
Brake into hall together, worn and pale. 
There with her knio-hts and dames was Guinevere. 



120 PELLEAS AND ETTARKE. 

Full wonderingly she gazed on Lancelot 

So soon return'd, and then on Pelleas, him 

Who had not greeted her, but cast himself 

Down on a bench, hard-breathing. "Have ye fought?" 

She ask'd of Lancelot. " Ay, my Queen," he said. 

" And thou hast overthrown him ? " " Ay, my Queen." 

Then she, turning to Pelleas, " O young knight, 

Hath the great heart of knighthood in thee fail'd 

So far thou canst not bide, unfrowardly, 

A fall from him ? " Then, for he answ^er'd not, 

" Or hast thou other griefs ? If I, the Queen, 

May help them, loose thy tongue, and let me know." 

But Pelleas lifted u* an eye so fierce 

She quail'd ; and lie, hissing, " I have no sword," 

Sprang from the door into the dark. The Queen 

Look'd hard upon her lover, he on her ; 

And each foresaw the dolorous day to be : 

And all talk died, as in a grove all song 

Beneath the shadow of some bird of prey, 

Then a long silence came upon the hall, 

And Modred thought, " The time is hard at hand." 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 



That story which the bold Sir Bedivere 
First made and latest left of all the knights, 
Told, when the man was no more than a voice 
In the white winter of his age, to those 
With whom he dwelt, new faces, other minds. 

Before that last weird battle in the West 
There came on Arthur sleeping, Gawain kill'd 
In Lancelot's war, the ghost of Gawain blown 
Along a wandering wind, and past his ear 
Went shrilling, " Hollow, hollow all delight ! 
. Hail, king ! to-morrow thou shalt pass away. 
. Farewell ! there is an isle of rest for thee. 



124 THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 

And I am blown along a wandering wind, 
And hollow, hollow, hollow all delight." 
And fainter onward like wild birds that change 
Their season in the night and wail their way 
From cloud to cloud, down the long wind the dream 
Shrill'd; but, in going mingled with dim cries 
Far in the moonlit haze among the hills 
As of some lonely city sack'd by night • 

When all is lost, and wife and child with wail 
Pass to new lords ; and Arthur woke and call'd, 
" Who spake ? A dream. O light upon the wind, 
Thine, Gawain, \vas the voice — are these dim cries 
Thine ? or doth all that haunts the waste and wild 
Mourn, knowing it will go along with me ? " 

This heard the bold Sir Bedivere and spake, — 
" me, my king, let pass whatever will. 
Elves, and the harmless glamour of the field ; 
But in their stead thy name and glory cling 
To all high places like a golden cloud 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 125 

Forever : but as yet thou shalt not pass. 

Light was Gawain in life, and light in death 

Is Gawain, for the ghost is as the man ; 

And care not thou for dreams from him, but rise, 

I hear the steps of Modred in the west, 

And with him many of thy people and knights 

Once thine, whom thou hast loved, but baser now 

Than heathen, scoffing at their vows and thee. 

Right well in heart they know thee for the king. 

Arise, go forth and conquer as of old." 

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere, — 
" Far other is this battle in the West 
Whereto we move, than when we strove in youth 
And thrust the heathen from the Roman wall, 
And shook him thro' the north. Ill doom is mine 
To war against my people and my knights : 
The king who fights his people fights himself. 
And they my knights — who loved me once — the 
stroke 



126 THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 

That strikes them dead is as my death to me. 
Yet let us hence and find or feel a way 
Thro' this blind haze, which ever since I saw 
One lying in the dust at Almesbury, 
Hath folded in the passes of the world." 

Then rose the king and moved his host by night, 
And ever push'd Sir Modred, league by league, 
Back to the sunset bound of Lyonesse, 
A land of old upheaven from the abyss 
By fire, to sink into the abyss again. 
Where fragments of forgotten peoples dwelt, 
And the long mountain ended in a coast 
Of ever-shifting sand, and far away 
The phantom circle of a moaning sea. 
There the pursuer could pursue no more, 
And he that fled no further fly the king ; 
And there, that day when the great light of heaven 
Burn'd at his lowest in the rolling year, 
On the waste sand by the waste sea they closed. 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 127 

Nor ever yet had Arthur fonght a fight 

Like this last, dim, weird battle of the West. 

A death-white mist slept over sand and sea : 

Whereof the chill, to him who breathed it, drew 

Down with his blood, till all his heart was cold 

With formless fear, and ev'n on Arthur fell 

Confusion, since he saw not whom he fought, 

For friend and foe were shadows in the mist, 

And friend slew friend not knowing whom he slew ; 

And some had visions out of golden youth, 

And some beheld the faces of old ghosts 

Look in upon the battle ; and in the mist 

Was many a noble deed, many a base, 

And chance and craft and strength in single fights, 

And ever and anon with host to host 

Shocks, and the splintering spear, the hard mail hewn, 

Shield-breakings, and the clash of brands, the crash 

Of battle-axes on shatter'd helms, and shrieks 

After the Christ, of those who falling down 

Looked up for heaven, and only saw the mist ; 



128 THE PASSING OP ARTHUR. 

And shouts of heathen and the traitor knights, 
Oaths, insuh, filth, and monstrous blasphemies, 
Sweat, writhings, anguish, laboring of the lungs 
In that close mist, and cryings for the light. 
Moans- of the dying and voices of the dead. 

Last as by some one death-bed, after wail 
Of suffering, silence follows, or thro' death 
Or deathlike swoon, thus over all that shore, 
Save for some whisper of the seething seas, 
A dead hush fell ; but when the dolorous day 
Grew drearier toward twilight falling, came 
A bitter wind, clear from the North, and blew 
The mist aside, and with that wind the tide 
Rose, and the pale king glanced across the field 
Of battle ; but no man was moving there ; 
Nor any cry of Christian heard thereon, 
Nor yet of heathen ; only the waste wave 
Brake in among dead faces, to and fro 
Swaying the helpless hands, and up and down 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 129 

Tumbling the hollow helmets of the fallen, 

And shiver'd brands that once had fought with Rome, 

And rolling far along the gloomy shores 

The voice of days of old and days to be. 

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere, 
And whiter than the mist that all day long 
Had held the field of battle w^as the king. 

" Hearest thou this great voice that shakes the world, 
And wastes the narrow realm whereon w^e move, 
And beats upon the faces of the dead, 
My dead, as tho' they had not died for me — 
O Bedivere, for on my heart hath fall'n 
Confusion, till I know not what I am. 
Nor whence I am, nor whether I be king. 
Behold, I seem but king among the dead." 

Then spake the bold Sir Bedivere, " My king, 
King everywhere ! and so the dead have kings, 
6* I 



130 THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 

There also will I worship thee as king. 

Yet still thy life is whole, and still I live 

Who love thee ; but who hates thee, he that brought 

The heathen back among us, yonder stands, 

Modred, unharm'd, the traitor of thine house." 

Then spake the King, " My house hath been my doom. 
But call not thou this traitor of my house 
Who hath but dwelt beneath one roof with me. 
My house are rather they who sware my vows, 
Yea, even while they brake thera, own'd me king. 
And well for thee, saying in my dark hour, 
When all the purport of my throne hath fail'd, 
That quick or dead thou boldest me for king. 
King am I, whatsoever be their cry ; 
And one last act of kinghood shalt thou see 
Yet ere I pass " ; and, uttering this, the king 
Made at the man : then Modred smote his liege 
Hard on that helm, which many a heathen sword 
Had beaten thin, while Arthur at one blow 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 131 

Striking the last stroke with Excalibur, 
Slew him, and all but slain himself he fell. 

So all day long the noise of battle roll'd 
Among the mountains by the winter sea; 
Until King Arthur's table, man by man, 
Had fall'n in Lyonesse about their lord, 
King Arthur : then, because his wound was deep. 
The bold Sir Bedivere uplifted him, 
And bore him to a chapel nigh the field, 
A broken chancel with a broken cross. 
That stood on a dark strait of barren land. 
On one side lay the Ocean, and on one 
Lay a great water, and the moon was full. 

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere : 
" The sequel of to-day unsolders all 
The goodhest fellowship of famous knights 
"Whereof this world holds record. Such a sleep 
They sleep — the men I loved. I think that we 



132 THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 

Shall never more, at any future time, 

Delight our souls with talk of knightly deeds, 

Walking about the gardens and the halls 

Of Camelot, as in the days that were. 

I perish by this people which I made, — 

Tho' Merlin sware that I should come again 

To rule once more — but let what will be, be, 

I am so deeply smitten thro' the helm 

That without help I cannot last till morn. 

Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur, 

Which was my pride : for thou rememberest how 

In those old days, one summer noon, an arm 

Rose up from out the bosom of the lake, 

Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, 

Holding the sword — and how I row'd across 

And took it, and have worn it, like a king : 

And, wheresoever I am sung or told 

In after-time, this also shall be known : 

But now delay not : take Excalibur, 

And fling him far into the middle mere : 

Watch what thou seest, and lightly bring me word." 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 133 

To him replied the bold Sir Bedivere : 
" It is not meet, Sir King, to leave thee thus, 
Aidless, alone, and smitten thro' the helm. 
A little thing may harm a wounded man. 
Yet I thy hest will all perform at full, 
Watch what I see, and lightly bring thee word." 

So saying, from the ruin'd shrine he stept 
And in the moon athwart the place of tombs, 
Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men, 
Old knights, and over them the sea-wind' sang 
Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping down 
By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock. 
Came on the shining levels of the lake. 

There drew he forth the brand Excalibur, 
And o'er him, drawing it, the winter moon. 
Brightening the skirts of a long cloud, ran forth 
And sparkled keen with frost against the hilt : 
For all the haft twinkled with diamond sparks, 



134 THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 

Myriads of topaz-lights, and jacinth-work 
Of subtlest jewelry. He gazed so long 
That both his eyes were dazzled, as he stood, 
This way and that dividing the swift mind, 
In act to throw : but at the last it seem'd 
Better to leave Excalibur conceal'd 
There in the many-knotted water-flags. 
That whistled stiff and dry about the marge. 
So strode he back slow to the wounded king. 

Then spake King Arthur to Sir Bedivere : 
" Hast thou perform'd my mission which I gave ? 
What is it thou hast seen ? or what hast heard ? " 

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : 
" I heard the ripple washing in the reeds, 
And the wild water lapping on the crag." 

To whom replied King Arthur, faint and pale : 
" Thou hast betray'd thy nature and thy name. 



THE PASSING OF AKTHUK. 135 

Not rendering true answer, as beseem'd 
Thy fealty, nor like a noble knight : 
For surer sign had follow'd, either hand, 
Or voice, or else a motion of the mere. 
This is a shameful thing for men to lie. 
Yet now, I charge thee, quickly go again 
As thou art lief and dear, and do the thing 
I bade thee, watch, and lightly bring me word." 

Then went Sir Bedivere the second time 
Across the ridge, and paced beside the mere, 
Counting the dewy pebbles, fix'd in thought ; 
But when he saw the wonder of the hilt. 
How curiously and strangely chased, he smote 
His palms together, and he cried aloud : — 

" And if indeed I cast the brand away, 
Surely a precious thing, one worthy note. 
Should thus be lost forever from the earth, 
Which might have pleased the eyes of many men. 



136 THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 

What good should follow this, if this were done ? 

What harm, undone ? deep harm to disobey, 

Seeing obedience is the bond of rule. 

Were it well to obey then, if a king demand 

An act unprofitable, against himself? 

The king is sick, and knows not what he does. 

What record, or what relic of my lord 

Should be to after-time, but empty breath 

And rumors of a doubt ? but were this kept, 

Stored in some treasure-house of mighty kings, 

Some one might show it at a joust of arms, 

Saying, ' King Arthur's sword, Excalibur, 

Wrought by the lonely maiden of the Lake. 

Nine years she wrought it, sitting in the deeps 

Upon the hidden bases of the hills.' 

So might some old man speak in the after-time 

To all the people, winning reverence. 

But now much honor and much fame were lost.'* 

So spake he, clouded with his own conceit, 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 137 



And hid Excalibur the second time, 

And so strode back slow to the wounded king. 



Then spoke King Arthur, breathing heavily : 
" What is it thou hast seen ? or what hast heard .'' " 

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : 
" I heard the water lapping on the crag. 
And the long ripple washing in the reeds." 

To whom replied King Arthur, much in wrath : 
" Ah, miserable and unkind, untrue, 
Unknightly, traitor -hearted ! Woe is me ! 
Authority forgets a dying king, 
Laid widow'd of the power in his eye 
That bow'd tlie will. I see thee what thou art. 
For thou, the latest-left of all my knights 
In whom should meet the offices of all, 
Thou wouldst betray me for the precious hilt ; 
Either from lust of gold, or like a girl 



138 THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 

Valuing the giddy pleasure of the eyes. 

Yet, for a man may fail in duty twice, 

And the third time may prosper, get thee hence : 

But, if thou spare to fling Excalibur, 

I will arise and slay thee with my hands." 

Then quickly rose Sir Bedivere, and ran, 
And, leaping down the ridges lightly, plunged 
Among the bulrush-beds, and clutch'd the sword, 
And strongly wheel'd and threw it. The great brand 
Made lightnings in the splendor of the moon. 
And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in an arch, 
Sliot like a streamer of the northern morn. 
Seen where the moving isles of winter shock 
By night, with noises of the northern sea. 
So flash'd and fell the brand Excalibur : 
But ere he dipt the surface, rose an arm 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, 
And caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him 
Three times, and drew him under in the mere. 
And lightly went the oilier to the king. 



THE PASSING OP ARTHUR. 139 

Then spoke King Arthur, drawing thicker breath : 
" Now see I by thine eyes that this is done. 
Speak out : what is it thou hast heard, or seen ? " 

And answer made the bold Sir Bedivere : 
" Sir King, I closed mine eyelids, lest the gems 
Should blind my purpose, for I never saw, 
Nor shall see, here or elsewhere, till I die, 
Not tho' I live three lives of mortal men, 
So great a miracle as yonder hilt. 
Then with both hands I flung him, wheeling him ; 
But when 1 look'd again, behold an arm. 
Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, 
That caught him by the hilt, and brandish'd him 
Three times, and drew him under in the mere." 

And answer made King Arthur, breathing hard : 
" My end draws nigh ; 't is time that I were gone. 
Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight, 
And bear me to the margin ; yet I fear 
My wound hath taken cold, and I shall die." 



140 THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 

So saying, from the pavement he half rose, 
Slowly, with pain, reclining on his arm, 
And looking wistfully with wide blue eyes 
As in a picture. Him Sir Bedivere 
Remorsefully regarded thro' his tears, 
And would have spoken, but he found not words, 
Tlien took w^ith care, and kneehng on one knee. 
O'er both his shoulders drew the languid hands, 
And rising bore him thro' the place of tombs. 

But, as he walk'd. King Arthur panted hard. 
Like one that feels a nightmare on his bed 
When all the house is mute. So sigh'd the king, 
Muttering and murmuring at his ear, " Quick, quick ! 
I fear it is too late, and I shall die." 
But the other swiftly strode from ridge to ridge, 
Clothed with his breath, and looking, as he walk'd, 
Larger than human on the frozen hills. 
He heard the deep behind him, and a cry 
Before. His own thought drove him like a goad. 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 141 

Dry clash'd his harness in the icy caves 

And barren chasms, and all to left and right 

The bare black cliff clang'd round him, as he based 

His feet on juts of slippery crag that rang 

Sharp-smitten with the dint of armed heels — 

And on a sudden, lo ! the level lake, 

And the long glories of the winter moon. 

Then saw they how there hove a dusky barge, 
Dark as a funeral scarf from stem to stern, 
Beneath them ; and descending they were ware 
That all the decks were dense with stately forms 
Black-stoled, black-hooded, like a dream — by these 
Three Queens with crowns of gold — and from them 

rose 
A cry that shiver'd to the tingling stars, 
And, as it were one voice, an agony 
Of lamentation, like a wind, that shrills 
All night in a waste land, where no one comes. 
Or hath come, since the making of the world. 



142 THE PASSING OF AliTHUli. 

Then murmur'd Arthur, " Place me in the barge," 
And to the barge they came. There those three Queens 
Put forth their hands, and took the king, and wept. 
But she, that rose the tallest of them all 
And fairest, laid his head upon her lap, 
And loosed the shatter'd casque, and chafed his hands, 
And call'd him by his name, complaining loud. 
And di'opping bitter tears against his brow 
Striped with dark blood : for all his face was white 
And colorless, and like the wither'd moon'- 
Smote by the fresh beam of the springing east ; 
And all his greaves and cuisses dash'c" with drops 
Of onset ; and the light and lustrous curls — 
That made his forehead like a rising sun 
High from the diiis-throne — were parch'd with dust ; 
Or, clotted into points and hanging loose, 
Mix'd with the knightly growth that fringed bis lips. 
So like a shatter'd column lay the king ; 
Not like that Arthur who, with lance in rest, 
From spur to plume a star of tournament, 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 143 

Shot thro' the lists at Camelot, and charged 
Before the eyes of ladies and of kings. 

Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bedivere, 
" Ah ! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go ? 
Where shall I hide my forehead and my eyes ? 
For now I see the true old times are dead, 
When every morning brought a noble chance. 
And every chance brought out a noble knight. 
Such times have been not since the light that led 
The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh. 
But now the whole Round Table is dissolved, 
Which was an image of the mighty world ; 
And I, the last, go forth companionless. 
And the days darken round me, and the years, 
Among new men, strange faces, other minds." 

And slowly answered Arthur from the barge : 
" The old order changeth, yielding place to new, 
And God fulfils himself in many ways. 



144 THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 

Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. 

Comfort thyself : what comfort is in me ? 

I have lived my life, and that which I have done 

May He within himself make pure ! but thou, 

If thou shouldst never see my face again, 

Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer 

Than this world dreams of. Wherefore, let thy voice 

Rise like a fountain for me night and day. 

For what are men better than sheep or goats 

That nourish a blind life within the brain, 

If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer 

Both for themselves and those who call them friend ? 

For so the whole round earth is every way 

Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. 

But now ilirewell. I am going a long way 

With these thou seest — if indeed I go — 

(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) 

To the island-valley of Avilion ; 

Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow, 

Nor ever wind blows loudly ; but it lies 



THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 145 

Deep-meadow'cl, happy, fair with orchard-lawns 
And bowery hollows crown'd with summer sea, 
Where I will heal me of my grievous wound." 

So said he, and the barge with oar and sail 
Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan 
That, fluting a wild carol ere her death, 
Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood 
With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere 
Revolving many memories, till the hull 
Look'd one black dot against the verge of dawn, 
And on the mere the wailing died away. 

At length he groan'd, and turning slowly clomb 
The last hard footstep of that iron crag ; 
Thence marked the black hull moving yet, and cried, 
" He passes to be king among the dead, 
And after healing of his grievous wound 
He comes again ; but — if he come no more — 
O me, be yon dark Queens in yon black boat, 

7 J 



146 THE PASSING OF ARTHUR. 

Who shriek'd and wail'd, the three whereat we gazed 
On that high day, when, clothed with living light, 
They stood before his throne in silence, friends 
Of Arthur, w^ho should help him at his need ? " 

Then from the da'wn it seem'd there came, but faint 
As from beyond the limit of the world, 
Like the last echo born of a great cry, 
Sounds, as if some fair city were one voice 
Around a king returning from his wars. 

Thereat once more he moved about, and clomb 
E'en to the highest he could climb, and saw, 
Straining his eyes beneath an arch of hand, 
Or thought he saw, the speck that bare the king, 
Down that long water opening on the deep 
Somewhere far off, pass on and on, and go 
From less to less and vanish into light. 
And the new sun rose bringing the new year. 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



THE NORTHERN FARMER. 

NEW STYLE. 

I. 
Dosn't thou 'ear my 'erse's legs, as they canters awaay ? 
Proputty, proputty, proputty — that 's what I 'ears 'em 

saay. 
Proputty, proputty, proputty — Sam, thou 's an ass for 

thy paains ; 
Theer's moor sense i' one o' 'is legs nor in all thy 

braains. 

II. 

Woa — theer 's a craw to pluck wi' tha, Sam : yon 's 

parson's 'ouse — 
Dosn't thou knaw that a man mun be eather a man or 

a mouse ? 



150 THE NORTHERN FARMER. 

Time to think on it then ; for thou '11 be twenty to 

weeiik.* 
Proputty, proputty — woa then woa — let ma 'ear 

mysen speiik. 

III. 

Me an' thy muther, Sammy, 'as bean a-talkin' o' thee ; 

Thou 's been talkin' to muther, an' she bean a tellin' it 
me. 

Thou '11 not marry for munny — thou 's sweet upo' par- 
son's lass — 

Noa — thou '11 marry fur luvv — an' we boath on us 
thinks tha an ass. 

IV. 

Seea'd her todaay goa by — Saaint's-daay — thay was 

ringing the bells. 
She 's a beauty thou thinks — an' soa is scoors o' gells, 
Them as 'as munny an' all — wot 's a beauty ? — the 

flower as blaws. 
But proputty, proputty sticks, an' proputty, proputty 

graws. 

* This week. 



THE NORTHERN FARMER. 151 

V. 

Do'ant be stunt * : taake time : I knaws what maakes 

tha sa mad. 
Warn't I craazed fur the lasses mysen when I wur a lad ? 
But I knaw'd a Quaaker feller as often 'as towd ma this : 
'• Doant thou marry for munny, but goa wheer munny 

is!" 

VI. 

An' I went wheer munny war : an' thy mother coom to 

'and, 
Wr lots o' munny laaid by, an' a nicetish bit o' land. 
Maaybe she warn't a beauty : — I niver giv it a thowt — 
But warn't she as good to cuddle an' kiss as a lass as 

'ant nowt ? 

VII. 

Parson^s lass 'ant nowt, an' she weant 'a nowt when 'e 's 

deiid, 
Mun be a guvness, lad, or summut, and addle t her bread : 

* Obstinate. f Earn. 



152 THE NORTHERN FARMER. 

Why ? fur 'e 's nobbut a curate, an' weant nivir git naw 

'igher ; 
An' 'e maiide the bed as 'e ligs on afoor 'e coom'd to 

the shire. 

VIII. 

And thin 'e coom'd to the parish wi' lots o' 'Varsity debt, 

Stook to his taail they did, an' 'e 'ant got shut on 'em yet. 

An' 'e ligs on 'is back i' the grip, wi' noiin to lend 'im a 
shove, 

Woorse nor a far-welter'd * yowe : fur, Sammy, 'e mar- 
ried fur luvv. 

^ IX. 

Luvv ? what 's luvv ? thou can luvv thy lass an' 'er 

munny too, 
Maakin' 'em goa togither as they 've good right to do. 
Could'n I luvv thy muther by cause o' 'er munny laaid 

by? 
Naiiy — fur I luvv'd 'er a vast sight moor fur it: reason 

why. 

* Or fow-welter'd — said of a sheep lying on its back in the furrow. 



THE NORTHERN FARMER. 153 

X. 

Ay, an' thy muftier says thou wants to marry the lass, 
Cooms of a gentleman burn : an' we boath on us thinks 

tha an ass. 
Woa then, proputty, wiltha ? — an ass as near as mays 

nowt — * 
Woa then, wiltha ? dangtha ! — the bees is as fell as o'vvt.t 

XI. 

Break me a bit o' the esh for his 'ead, lad, out o' the fence! 
Gentleman burn ! what 's gentleman burn ? is it shillins 

an' pence ? 
Proputty, proputty 's ivry thing 'ere, an', Samm}^, I 'm 

blest 
If it is n't the saiime oop yonder, fur them as 'as it 's the 

best. 

XII. 

Tis'n them as 'as munny as breaks into 'ouses an' steals. 
Them as 'as coats to their backs an' taakes their regular 
meals. 

* Makes uothing. t The flies are as fierce as anything. 



154 THE NORTHERN FARMKR. 

Noji, but it 's them as niver knaws ^Yhe('l• a ineiil 's to 

be 'ad. • 

Taiike my word for it, Sammy, the poor in a loomp is 

bad. 

xm. 

Them or thir feythers, tha sees, mun 'a bean a laiizy 

lot. 
Fur work mun 'a gone to the gittin' whiniver munny 

was got. 
Feyther 'ad ammost nowt ; leiistwaays 'is munny was 'id. 
But 'e tued an' moil'd 'issen dead, an 'e died a good un, 'c 

did. 

XTV. 

Loook thou theer wheer Wrigglcsby beck comes out by 

the 'ill ! 
Feyther run up to the farm, an' I runs up to the mill ; 
An' I '11 run up to the brig, an' that thou '11 live to see ; 
And if thou marries a good un, I '11 leave the land to 

thee. 



THE NORTHERN FARMER. 155 

XV. 

Thim 's my noations, Sammy, wheerby I means to stick ; 
But if thou marries a bad un, I '11 leave the land to 

Dick. — 
Coom oop, proputty, proputty — that 's what I 'ears 'im 

saiiy — 
Proputty, proputty, proputty — canter an' canter awaay. 



THE VICTIM. 



I. 

A PLAGUE upon the people fell, 
A famine after laid them low, 
Then thorpe and byre arose in fire, 

For on them brake the sudden foe ; 
So thick they died the people cried 

" The Gods are moved against the land." 
The Priest in horror about his altar 
To Thor and Odin lifted a hand : 
" Help us from famine 
And plague and strife ! 
What would you have of us ? 



THE VICTIM. 

Human life ? 
Were it our nearest, 
Were it our dearest, 
(Answer, O answer) 
We give you his life." 

II. 
But still the foeman spoil'd and burn'd, 

And cattle died, and deer in wood, 
And bird in air, and fishes turn'd 

And whiten'd all the rolling flood ; 
And dead men lay all over the way, 

Or down in a furrow scathed with flame : 
And ever and aye the Priesthood moan'd 
Till at last it seem'd that an answer came 
" The King is happy 
In child and wife ; 
Take you his dearest, 
Give us a life." 



157 



ir>8 THE VICTIM. 

III. 

The Priest went out by heath and hill ; 

The King was hunting in the wild ; 
They found the mother sitting still ; 
She cast her arms about the child. 
The child was only eight summers old, 

His beauty still with his years increased, 
His face was ruddy, his hair was gold, 
He seem'd a victim due to the priest. 
The Priest beheld him, 
And cried with joy, 
"The Gods have answer'd: 
We give them the boy." 

IV. 

The King return'd from out the wild, 
He bore but little game in hand ; 

The mother said : " They have taken the child 
To spill his blood and heal the land : 

The land is sick, the people diseased, 
And blidit and famine on all the lea : 



THE VICTIM. 151) 

The holy Gods, they must be appeased, 
So I pray you tell the truth to me. 
They have taken our son, 
They will have his life. 
Is he your dearest ? • 

Or I, the wife?" 

V. 

The King bent low, with hand on brow, 

He stay'd his arms upon his knee : 
" O wife, what use to answer now ? 

For now the Priest has judged for me." 
The King was shaken with holy fear ; 

" The Gods," he said, " would have chosen well ; 
Yet both are near, and both are dear. 
And which the dearest I cannot tell ! '\ 
But the Priest was happy. 
His victim won : 
" We have his dearest. 
His only son ! " 



160 THE VICTIM. 

VI. 

The rites prepared, the victim bared, 

The knife uprising toward the blow, 
To the altar-stone she sprang alone, 

" Me, not my darling, no ! " 
He caught her away with a sudden cry ; 

Suddenly from him brake his wife. 
And shrieking " /am his dearest, I — 
/ am his dearest ! " rush'd on the knife. 
And the Priest was happy, 
"O, Father Odin, 
We give you a life. 
Which was his nearest ? 
Who was his dearest ? 
The Gods have answer'd ; 
We give them the wife ! " 



WAGES. 



Glory of warrior, glory of orator, glory of song, 

Paid with a voice flying by to be lost on an endless 
sea — 
Glory of Virtue, to fight, to struggle, to right the 
wrong — 
Nay, but she aim'd not at glory, no lover of glory 
she : 
Give her the glory of going on, and still to be. 

The wages of sin is death : if the wages of Virtue be 
dust, 
Would she have heart to endure for the life of the 
worm and the fly? 

K 



162 WAGES. 

She desires no isles of the blest, no quiet seats of the 
just, 
To rest in a golden grove, or to bask in a summer 
sky: 
Give her the wages of going on, and not to die. 



THE HIGHER PANTHEISM. 



The sun, the moon, the stars, the seas, the hills and 

the plains — 
Are not these, O Soul, the Vision of Him who reigns ? 

Is not the Vision He ? tho' He be not that which He 

seems ? 
Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in 

dreams ? 

Earth, these solid stars, this weight of body and Umb, 
Are they not sign and symbol of thy division from 
Him? 

Dark is the world to thee : thyself art the reason why ; 
For is He not all but thou, that hast power to feel 
"lam I!" 



164 THE HIGHER PANTHEISM. 

Glory about thee, without thee : and thou fulfillest thy 

doom, 
Making Him broken gleams, and a stifled splendor and 

gloom. 

Speak to Him thou for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit 

can meet — 
Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and 

feet. 

God is law, say the wise, O Soul, and let us rejoice. 
For if He thunder by law the thunder is yet His voice. 

Law is God, say some : no God at all, says the fool ; 
For all we have power to see is a straight staff bent in 
a pool ; 

And the ear of man cannot hear, and the eye of man 

cannot see ; 
But if we could see and hear, this Vision — were it not 

He? 



Flower in the crannied wall, 
I pluck you out of the crannies ; — 
Hold you here, root and all, in my hand, 
Little flower — but if I could understand 
What you are, root and all, and all in all, 
I should know what God and man is. 



LUCRETIUS, 



Luc ILIA, wedded to Lucretius, found 
Her master cold ; for when the morning flush 
Of passion and the first embrace had died 
Between them, tho' he loved her none the less, 
Yet often when the woman heard his foot 
Return from pacings in the field, and ran 
To greet him with a kiss, the master took 
Small notice, or austerely, for — his mind 
Half buried in some weightier argument, 
Or fancy-borne perhaps upon the rise 
And long roll of the Hexameter — he past 
To turn and ponder those three hundred scrolls 
Left by the Teacher whom he held divine. 



LUCRETIUS. 167 

She brook'd it not ; but wrathful, petulant, 
Dreaming some rival, sought and found a witch 
Who brew'd the philter which had power, they said, 
To lead an errant passion home again. 
And this, at times, she mingled with his drink, 
And this destroy'd him ; for the wicked broth 
Confused the chemic labor of the blood. 
And tickling the brute brain within the man's 
Made havoc among those tender cells, and check'd 
His power to shape : he loath'd himself ; and once 
After a tempest woke upon a morn 
That mock'd him with returning calm, and cried.' 

' " Storm in the night ! for thrice I heard the rain 
Eushing ; and once the flash of a thunderbolt — 
Methought I never saw so fierce a fork — 
Struck out the streaming mountain-side, and show'd 
A riotous confluence of watercourses 
Blanching and billowing in a hollow of it, 
Where all but j^ester-eve was dusty-drjr. 



168 LUCRETIUS. 

" Storm, and what dreams, ye holy Gods, what dreams ! 
For thrice I waken'd after dreams. Perchance 
We do but recollect the dreams that come 
Just ere the waking : terrible ! for it seem'd 
A void was made in Nature j all her bonds 
Crack'd ; and I saw the flaring atom-streams 
And torrents of her myriad universe, 
Ruining along the illimitable inane. 
Fly on to clash together again, and make 
Another and another frame of things 
Forever : that was mine, my dream, 1 knew it 
Of and belonging to me, as the dog 
With inward yelp and restless forefoot plies 
His function of the woodland : but the next ! 
I thought that all the blood by Sylla shed 
Came driving rainlike down again on earth, 
And where it dash'd the reddening meadow, sprang 
No dragon warriors from Cadmean teeth. 
For these I thought my dream would show to me, 
But girls, Hetairai, curious in their art, 



LUCRETIUS. 169 

Hired animalisms, vile as those that made 

The mulberry-faced Dictator's orgies worse 

Than aught they fable of the quiet Gods. 

And hands they mixt, and yell'd and round me drove 

In narrowing circles till I yell'd again 

Half suffocated, and sprang up, and saw — 

Was it the first beam of my latest day ? 

^^ Then, then, from utter gloom stood out the breasts. 
The breasts of Helen, and hoveringly a sword 
Now over and now under, now direct. 
Pointed itself to pierce, but sank down shamed 
At all that beauty ; and as I stared, a fire, 
The fire that left a roofless llion, 
Shot out of them, and scorch'd me that I woke 

" Is this thy vengeance, holy Venus, thine. 
Because I would not one of thine own doves, 
Not ev'n a rose, were offer'd to thee ? thine, 
Forgetful how my rich prooemion makes 



170 LUCRETIUS. 

Thy glory fly along- the Italian field, 
In lays that will outlast thy Deity ? 

" Deity ? nay, thy worshippers. My tongue 
Trips, or I speak profanely. Which of these 
Angers thee most, or angers thee at all ? 
Not if thou be'st of those who far aloof 
Fom envy, hate and pity, and spite and scorn, 
Live the great life which all our greatest fain 
Would follow, centr'd in eternal calm. 

" Nay, if thou canst, O Goddess, like ourselves 
Touch, and be touch'd, then would I cry to thee 
To kiss thy Mavors, roll thy tender arms 
Round him, and keep him from the lust of blood 
That makes a steaming slaughter-house of Rome. 

" Ay, but I meant not thee ; I meant not her. 
Whom all the pines of Ida shook to see 
Slide from that quiet heaven of hers, and tempt 



LUCRETIUS. 171 

The Trojan, while his neat-herds were abroad ; 

Nor her that o'er her wounded hunter wept 

Her Deity false in human^amorous tears ; 

Nor whom her beardless apple-arbiter 

Decided fairest. Rather, O ye Gods, 

Poet-like, as the great Sicilian called 

Calliope to grace his golden verse — 

Ay, and this Kypris also — did I take 

That popular name of thine to shadow forth 

The all-generating powers and genial heat 

Of Nature, when she strikes through the thick blood 

Of cattle, and light is large and lambs are glad 

Nosing the mother's udder, and the bird 

Makes his heart voice amid the blaze of flowers: 

Which things appear the work of mighty Gods. 

" The Gods ! and if I go my work is left 
Unfinish'd — if\ go. The Gods, who haunt 
The lucid interspace of world and world, 
Where never creeps a cloud, or moves a wind. 



172 LUCRETIUS. 

Nor ever falls the least white star of snow, 

Nor ever lowest roll of thunder moans, 

Nor sound of human sorrow mounts to mar 

Their sacred everlasting calm ! and such, 

Not all so fine, nor so divine a calm, 

Not such, nor all unlike it, man may gain 

Letting his own life go. The Gods, the Gods I 

If all be atoms, how then should the Gods 

Being atomic not be dissoluble, 

Not follow the great law ? My master held 

That Gods there are, for all men so beheve. 

I prest my footsteps into his, and meant 

Surely to lead my Memraius in a train 

Of flowery clauses onward to the proof 

That Gods there are, and deathless. Meant ? I meant ? 

I have forgotten what I meant : my mind 

Stumbles, and all my faculties are lamed. 

" Look where another of our Gods, the Sun, 
Apollo, Delius, or of older use 



LUCRETIUS. 173 

All-seeing Hyperion — what you will — 

Has mounted yonder ; since he never sware, 

Except his wrath were wreak'd on wretched man, 

That he would only shine among the dead 

Hereafter ; tales ! for never yet on earth 

Could dead flesh creep, or bits of roasting ox 

Moan round the spit — nor knows he what he sees ; 

King of the East altho' he seem, and girt 

With song and flame and fragrance, slowly lifts 

His golden feet on those empurpled stairs 

That climb into the windy halls of heaven : 

And here he glances on an eye new-born, 

And gets for greeting but a wail of pain ; 

And here he stays upon a freezing orb 

That fain would gaze upon him to the last : 

And here upon a yellow eyelid fall'n 

And closed by those who mourn a friend in vain. 

Not thankful that his troubles are no more. 

And me, altho' his fire is on my face 

Blinding, he sees not, nor at all can tell 



174 LUCRETIUS. 

Whether I mean this day to end myself, 

Or lend an ear to Plato where he says, 

That men like soldiers may not quit the post 

Allotted by the Gods : but he that holds 

The Gods are careless, wherefore need he care 

Greatly for them, nor rather plunge at once, 

Being troubled, wholly out of sight, and sink 

Past earthquake — ay, and gout and stone, that break 

Body toward death, and palsy, death-in-life, . 

And wretched age — and worst disease of all, 

These prodigies of myriad nakednesses, 

And twisted shapes of lust, unspeakable, 

Abominable, strangers at my hearth 

Not welcome, harpies miring every dish, 

The phantom husks of something foully done, 

And fleeting thro' the boundless universe. 

And blasting the long quiet of my breast 

With animal heat and dire insanity. 

" How should the mind, except it loved them, clasp 



LUCRETIUS. 175 

These idols to herself? or do they fly 

Now thinner, and now thicker, like the flakes 

In a fall of snow, and so press in, perforce 

Of multitude, as crowds that in an hour 

Of civic tumult jam the doors, and bear 

The keepers down, and throng, their rags and they, 

The basest, far into that council-hall 

Where sit the best and stateliest of the land o^ 

" Can I not fling this horror off me again, 
Seeing with how great ease Nature can smile, 
Balmier and nobler from her bath of storm, 
At random ravage ? and how easily 
The mountain there has cast his cloudy slough, 
Now towering o'er him in serenest air, 
A mountain o'er a mountain, ay, and within 
All hollow as the hopes and fears of men. 

" But who was he, that in the garden snared 
Picus and Faunus, rustic Gods ? a tale 



176 LUCRETIUS. 

To laugh at — more to laugh at in myself — 

For look ! what is it ? there ? yon arbutus 

Totters ; a noiseless riot underneath 

Strikes through the wood, sets all the tops quivering — 

The mountain quickens into Nymph and Faun ; 

And here an Oread — how the sun delights 

To glance and shift about her slippery sides, 

And rosy knees and supple roundedness, 

And budded bosom-peaks — who this way runs 

Before the rest — A satyr, a satyr, see — 

Follows ; but him I proved impossible ; 

Twy-natured is no nature : yet he draws 

Nearer and nearer, and I scan him now 

Beastlier than any phantom of his kind 

That ever butted his rough brother-brute 

For lust or lusty blood or provender : 

I hate, abhor, spit, sicken at him ; and she 

Loathes him as well ; such a precipitate heel. 

Fledged as it were with Mercury's ankle-wing, 

Whirls her to me : but will she fling herself, 



LUCRETIUS. 177 

Shameless upon me ? Catch her, goatfoot : nay, 

Hide, hide them, million-myrtled wilderness. 

And cavern-shadowing laurels, hide ! do I wish — 

What ? — that the bush were leafless ? or to whelm 

All of them in one massacre ? O ye Gods, 

I know you careless, yet, behold, to you 

From childly wont and ancient use I call — 

I thought I lived securely as yourselves — 

'No lewdness, narrowing envy, monkey-spite, 

No madness of ambition, avarice, none : 

No larger feast that under plane or pine 

With neighbors laid along the grass, to take 

Only such cups as left us friendly-warm, 

Aflnlrming each his own philosophy — 

Nothing to mar the sober majesties 

Of settled, sweet, Epicurean life. 

But now it seems some unseen monster lays 

His vast and filthy hands upon my will, 

AVrenching it backward into his ; and spoils 

My bliss in being ; and it was not great ; 

8* L 



178 LUCRETIUS. 

For save when shutting reasons up in rhythm, 

Or Heliconian honey in living words, 

To make a truth less harsh, I often grew 

Tired of so much within our little life, 

Or of so little in our little life — 

Poor little life that toddles half an hour 

Crown'd with a flower or two, and there an end — 

And since the nobler pleasure seems to fade, 

Why should I, beastlike as I find myself. 

Not manlike end myself ? — our privilege — 

What beast has heart to do it ? And what man. 

What Roman would be dragg'd in triumph thus ? 

Not I ; not he, who bears one name with her. 

Whose death-blow struck the dateless doom of kings, 

When brooking not the Tarquin in her veins, 

She made her blood in sight of Collatine 

And all his peers, flushing the guiltless air, 

Spout from the maiden fountain in her heart. 

And from it sprang the Commonwealth, which breaks 

As I am breaking now ! 



LUCRETIUS. 179 

" And therefore now 
Let her, that is the womb and tomb of all, 
Great Nature, take, and forcing far apart 
Those blind beginnings that have made me man 
Dash them anew together at her will 
Through all her cycles — into man once more, 
Or beast or bird or fish, or opulent flower — 
But till this cosmic order everywhere 
Shatter'd into one earthquake in one day 
Cracks all to pieces, — and that hour perhaps 
Is not so far when momentary man 
Shall seem no more a something to himself, 
But he, his hopes and hates, his homes and fanes. 
And even his bones long laid within the grave, 
The very sides of the grave itself shall pass, 
Vanishing, atom and void, atom and void, 
Into the unseen forever, — till that hour, 
My golden work in which I told a truth 
That stays the rolling Ixionian wheel, 
And numbs the Fury's ringlet-snake, and plucks 



180 LUCRETIUS. 

The mortal soul from out immortal hell, 

Shall stand : aj. surely : then it fails at last, 

And perishes as I must ; for O Thou, 

Passionless bride, divine Tranquillity, 

Yearn'd after by the wisest of the wise, 

Who fail to find thee, being as thou art 

Without one pleasure and without one pain, 

Howbeit I know thou surely must be mine ^ 

Or soon or late, yet out of season, thus 

I woo thee roughly, for thou carest not 

How roughly men may woo thee so they win — 

Thus — thus : the soul flies out and dies in the air." 

With that he drove the knife into his side i 
She heard him raging, heard him fall ; ran in, 
Beat breast, tore hair, cried out upon herself 
As having fail'd in duty to him, shriek'd 
That she but meant to win him back, fell on him, 
Clasp'd, kiss'd him, wail'd : he answer'd, " Care not thou ! 
What matters ? All is over : Fare thee well ! " 



THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 



[This poem is founded upoa a story in Boccaccio. 

A young lover, Julian, whose cousin and foster-sister, Camilla, has been 
wedded to his friend and rival, Lionel, endeavors to narrate the story of his 
own 'ove for her, and the strange scq'ael of it. lie speaks of having been 
haunted in delirium by visions and the sound of bells, sometimes tolling for a 
funeral, and at last ringing for a marriage ; but he breaks away, overcome, as 
he approaches the Event, and a witness to it completes the tale.] 

***** 

He flies the event : he leaves the event to me : 
Poor Julian — how he rush'd away ; the bells, 
Those marriage-bells, echoing in ear and heart — 
But cast a parting glance at me, you saw, 
As who should say " continue." "Well, he had 
One golden hour — of triumph shall I say ? 
Solace at least — before he left his home. 



Would you had seen him in that hour of his 



182 THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 

He moved thro' all of it majestically — 
Restrain'd himself quite to the close — but now — 

Whether they ivere his lady's mamage-bells, 
Or prophets of them in his fantasy, 
I never ask'd : but Lionel and the girl 
"Were wedded, and our Julian came again 
Back to his mother's house among the pines. 
But there, their gloom, the mountains and the Bay, 
The whole land weigh'd him down as -ilZtna does 
The Giant of Mythology : he would go, 
"Would leave the land forever, and had gone 
Surely, but for a whimper " Go not yet," 
Some warning, and divinely as it seem'd 
By that which folio w'd — but of this I deem 
As of the visions that he told — the event 
Glanced back upon them in his after life, 
And partly made them — tho' he knew it not. 

And thus he stay'd and would not look at her — 



THE GOLDEN SUPP*R. 183 

No, not for months : but, when the eleventh moon 
After their marriage lit the lover's Bay, 
Heard yet once more the toiling bell, and said, 
Would you could toll me out of life, but found — 
All softly as his mother broke it to him — 
A crueller reason than a crazy ear. 
For that low knell tolling his lady dead — 
Dead — and had lain three days without a pulse : 
All that look'd on her had pronounced her dead. 
And so they bore her (for in Julian's land 
They never nail a dumb head up in elm). 
Bore her free-faced to the free airs of heaven, 
And laid her in the vault of her own kin. 

What did he then ? not die : he is here and hale — 
Not plunge headforemost from the mountain there, 
And leave the name of Lover's Leap : not he : 
He knew the meaning of the whisper now, 
Thought that he knew it. " This, I stay'd for this ; 
O love, I have not seen you for so long. 



184 THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 

Now, now, will I go down into the grave, 
I will be all alone with all I love, 
And kiss her on the Yips. She is his no more : 
The dead returns to me, and I go down 
To kiss the dead." 
% 

The fancy stirr'd him so 
He rose and went, and entering the dim vault, 
And, making there a sudden light, beheld 
All round about him that which all will be. 
The light was but a flash, and went again. 
Then at the far end of the vault he saw 
His lady with the moonlight on her face ; 
Her breast as in a shadow-prison, bars 
Of black and bands of silver, which the moon 
Struck from an open grating overhead 
High in the wall, and all the rest of her 
Drown'd in the gloom and horror of the vault. 

" It was my wish," he said, " to pass, to sleep, 



THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 185 

To rest, to be with her — till the great clay 

Peal'd on us with that music which rights all, 

And raised us hand in hand." And kneeling there 

Down in the dreadful dust that once was man, 

Dust, as he said, that once was loving hearts, 

Hearts that had beat with such a love as mine — 

Not such as mine, no, nor for such as her — 

He softly put his arm about her neck 

And kiss'd her more than once, till helpless death 

And silence made him bold — nay, but I wrong him, 

He reverenced his dear lady even in death ; 

But, placing his true hand upon her heart, 

" O, you warm heart," he moaned, " not even death 

Can chill you all at once " : then starting, thought 

His dreams had come again. " Do I wake or sleep ? 

Or am I made immortal, or my love 

Mortal once more ? " It beat — the heart — it beat : 

Faint — but it beat : at which his own began 

To pulse with such a vehemence that it drown'd 

The feebler motion underneath his hand. 



186 THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 

But when at last his doubts were satisfied, 
He raised her softly from the sepulchre, 
And, wrapping her all over with the cloak 
He came in, and now striding fast, and now 
Sitting awhile to rest, but evermore 
Holding his golden burden in his arms, 
So bore her thro' the solitary land 
Back to the mother's house where she was born. 

There the good mother's kindly ministering, 
With half a night's appliances, recall'd 
Her fluttering life : she raised an eye that ask'd 
" Where ? " till the tilings familiar to her youth 
Had made a silent answer : then she spoke, 
" Here ! and how came I here ? " and learning it 
(They told her somewhat rashly as I think) 
At once began to wander and to wail, 
" Ay, but you know that you must give me back: 
Send ! bid him come " ; but Lionel was away, 
Stung by his loss had vanish'd, none knew where. 



THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 187 

" He casts me out," plie wept, " and goes " — a wail 
That seeming something, yet was nothing, born 
Not from believing mind, but shatter'd nerve, 
Yet haunting Julian, as her own reproof 
At some precipitance in her burial. 
Then, when her own true spirit had return'd, 
" O yes, and you," she said, "and none but you. 
For you have given me life and love again, 
And none but you yourself shall tell him of it, 
And you shall give me back when he returns." 
" Stay then a little," answer'd Julian, " here. 
And keep yourself, none knowing, to yourself ; 
And I will do your will. I may not stay, 
No, not an hour; but send me notice of him 
When he returns, and then will I return, 
And I will make a solemn offering of you 
To him you love." And faintly she replied, 
" And I will do your will, and none shall know." 

Not know ? with such a secret to be known. 



188 THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 

But all their house was old and loved them both, 
And all the house had known the loves of both ; 
Had died almost to serve them any way, 
And all the land was waste and solitary : 
And then he rode away ; but after this, 
An hour or two, Camilla's travail came 
Upon her, and that day a boy was born, 
Heir of his face and land, to Lionel. 

And thus our lonely lover rode away, 
And pausing at a hostel in a marsh. 
There fever seized upon him : myself was then 
Travelling that land, and meant to rest an hour; 
And sitting down to such a base repast, 
It makes me angry yet to speak of it — 
I heard a groaning overhead, and climb'd 
The moulder'd stairs (for everything was vile), 
And in a loft, with none to wait on him, 
Found, as it seemM, a skeleton alone, 
Ravino; of dead men's dust and beating hearts. 



THE GOLDEN SUPPEK. 189 

A dismal hostel in a dismal land, 
A flat malarian world of reed and rush ! 
But there from fever and ray care of him 
Sprang up a friendship that may help us yet. 
For while we roam'd along the dreary coast, 
And waited for her message, piece by piece 
I learnt the drearier story of his life ; 
And, tho' he loved and honor'd Lionel, 
Found that the sudden wail his lady made 
Dwelt in his fancy : did he know her worth, 
Her beauty even ? should he not be taught, 
Ev'n by the price that others set upon it. 
The value of that jewel he had to guard? 

Suddenly came her notice and we past, 
I ^Yith our lover to his native Bay. 

This love is of the brain, the mind, the soul : 
That makes the sequel pure ; tho' some of us 
Beginning at the sequel know no more. 



19^ 



THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 



Not such am I : and yet I saj-, the bird 
That will not hear my call, however sweet, 
But if ray neighbor whistle answers him — 
"What matter? there are others in the wood. 
Yet when I saw her (and I thought him crazed, 
Tho' not with such a craziness as needs 
A cell and keeper), those dark eyes of hers — 
Oh ! such dark eyes ! and not her eyes alone, 
But all from these to where she touch'd on earth, 
For such a craziness as Julian's seem'd 
No less than one divine apology. 

So sweetly and so modestly she came 
To greet us, her young hero in her arms ! 
" Kiss him," she said. '• You gave me life again. 
He, but for you, had never seen it once. 
His other father you ! Kiss him, and then 
Forgive him, if his oame be Julian too." 

Talk of lost hopes and broken heart ! his own 



THE GOLDEN SUPrEIl. 191 

Sent such a flame into liis face, I knew 
Some sudden vivid pleasure hit him there. 

But he was all the more resolved to go, 
And sent at once to Lionel, praying him 
By that great love they both had borne the dead, 
To come and revel for one hour with him 
Before he left the land forevermore ; 
And then to friends — they were not many — who lived 
Scatteringly about that lonely land of his, 
And bade them to a banquet of farewells. 

And Julian made a solemn feast : I never 
Sat at a costlier ; for all round his hall 
From column on to column, as in a wood, 
Not such as here — an equatorial one, 
Great garlands swung and blossom'd ; and beneath, 
Heirlooms, and ancient miracles of Art, 
Chalice and salver, wines that, Heaven knows when, 
Had suck'd the fire of some forgotten sun, 



192 THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 

And kept it tliro' a liundred years of gloom, 

Yet glowing in a heart of ruby — cups 

Where nymph and god ran ever round in gold — 

Others of glass as costly — some with gems 

Movable and resettable at will, 

And trebling all the rest in value — Ah heavens ! 

Why need I tell you all ? — suffice to say 

That "whatsoever such a bouse as his, 

And his was old, has in it rare or fair 

Was brought before the guest : and they, the guests, 

Wonder'd at some strange light in Juhan's eyes 

(T told you that he had his golden hour), 

And such a feast, ill-suited as it seem'd 

To such a time, to Lionel's loss and his, 

And that resolved self-exile from a land 

He never would revisit, such a feast 

So rich, so strange, and stranger ev'n than rich. 

But rich as for the nuptials of a king. 

And stranger yet, at one end of the hail 



THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 193 

Two great funereal curtains, looping down, 
Parted a little ere they met the floor, 
About a picture of his lady, taken 
Some years before, and falling hid the frame. 
And just above the parting was a lamp : 
So the sweet figure folded round with night 
Seem'd stepping out of darkness with a smile. 

Well then — our solemn feast — we ate and drank, 
And midit — the wines beinoj of such nobleness — 
Have jested also, but for Julian's eyes. 
And something weird and wild about it all : 
What was it ? for our lover seldom spoke. 
Scarce touch'd the meats ; but ever and anon 
A priceless goblet with a priceless wine 
Arising, show'd he drank beyond his use ; 
And when the feast was near an end, he said : 

" There is a custom in the Orient, friends — 
I read of it in Persia — when a man 

9 M 



194 THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 

Will honor those who feast with him, he brings 
And shows them whatsoever he accounts 
Of all his treasures the most beautiful, 
Gold, jewels, arms, whatever ii may be. 
This custom — " 

Pausing here a moment, all 
The guests broke in upon him with meeting hands 
And cries about the banquet — " Beautiful ! 
"Who could desire more beauty at a feast ? " 

The lover answer'd, " There is more than one 
Here sitting: who desires it. Laud me not 
Before my time, but hear me to the close. 
This custom steps yet further when the guest 
Is loved and honor'd to the uttermost. 
For after he has shown him gems or gold, 
He brings and sets before him iu rich guise 
That which is thrice as beautiful as these, 
The beauty that is dearest to his heart — 



THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 195 

* my heart's lord, would I could show you,' he says, 
' Ev'n my heart too.' jVnd I propose to-night 
To show you what is dearest to my heart, 
And my heart too. 

" But solve me first a doubt. 
I knew a man, nor many years ago ; 
He had a faithful servant, one who loved 
His master more than all on earth beside. 
He falling sick, and seeming close on death, 
His master would not wait until he died, 
But bade his menials bear him from the door. 
And leave him in the public way to die. 
I knew another, not so long ago, 
Who found the dying servant, took him home, 
And fed, and clierish'd him, and saved his life. 
I ask you now, should this first master claim 
His service, whom does it belong to ? him 
"Who thrust him out, or him who saved his life ? '* 



196 THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 

This question, so flung down before the guests, 
And balanced either way by each, at length 
When some were doubtful how the law would hold, 
Was handed over by consent of all 
To one who had not spoken^ Lionel. 

Fair speech was his, and delicate of phrase. 
And he beginning languidly — his loss 
Weigh'd on him yet — but warming as he went, 
Glanced at the point of law, to pass it by, 
Affirming that as long as either lived. 
By all the laws of love and gratefulness, 
The service of the one so saved was due 
All to the saver — adding, with a smile, 
The first for many weeks — a semi-smile 
As at a strong conclusion — " Body and soul 
And life and limbs, all his to work liis will." 

Then Julian made a secret sign to me 
To bring Camilla down bel^ore them alL 



THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 197 

And crossing her own picture as she came, 

And looking as much lovelier as herself 

Is lovelier than all others — on her head 

A diamond circlet, and from under this 

A veil, that seem'd no more than gilded air, 

Flying by each fine ear, an Eastern gauze 

With seeds of gold — so, with that grace of hers, 

Slow-moving as a wave against the wind. 

That flings a mist behind it in the sun — 

And bearing high in arms the mighty babe. 

The younger Julian, who himself was crown'd 

With roses, none so rosy as himself — 

And over all her babe and her the jewels 

Of many generations of his house 

Sparkled and flash'd, for he had decked them out 

As for a solemn sacrifice of love — 

So she came in : — I am long in telling it. 

I never yet beheld a thing so strange, 

Sad, sweet, and strange together — floated in, — 

While all the guests in mute amazement rose, 



198 THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 

And slowly pacing to the middle hall, 

Before the board, there paused and stood, her breast 

Hard-heaving, and her eyes upon her feet, 

Not daring yet to glance at Lionel. 

But him she carried, him nor lights nor feast 

Dazed or amazed, nor eyes of men ; who cared 

Only to use his own, and staring wide 

And hungering for the gilt and jewell'd world 

About him, look'd, as he is like to prove, 

When Julian goes, the lord of all he saw. 

" My guests," said Julian : " you are honor'd now 
Ev'n to the uttermost : in her behold 
Of all my treasures the most beautiful, 
Of all things upon earth the dearest to me." 
Then waving us a sign to seat our.-elves, 
Led his dear lady to a chair of state. 
And I, by Lionel sitting, saw his face 
Fire, and dead ashes and all fire again 
Thrice in a second, felt him tremble too, 



THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 199 

And heard him muttering, " So like, so like ; 

She never had a sister. I knew none. 

Some cousin of his and hers — O God, so like ! " 

And then he suddenly ask'd her if she were. 

She shook, and cast her eyes down, and was dumb. 

And then some other question'd if she came 

From foreign lands, and still she did not speak. 

Another, if the boy were hers : but she 

To all their queries answer'd not a word, 

Which made the amazement more, till one of them 

Said, shuddering, " Her spectre ! " But his friend 

Replied, in half a whisper, " Not at least 

The spectre that will speak if spoken to. 

Terrible pity, if one so beautiful 

Prove, as I almost dread to find her, dumb ! " 

But Julian, sitting by her, answer'd all : 
" She is but dumb, because in her you see 
That faithful servant whom we spoke about. 
Obedient to her second master now ; 



200 THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 

Which will not last. I have here to-night a guest 
So bound to me by common love and loss — 
What ! shall I bind him more ? in his behalf, 
Shall I exceed the Persian, giving him 
That which of all things is the dearest to me, 
Not only showing ? and he himself pronounced 
That my rich gift is wholly mine to give. 

" Now all be dumb, and promise all of you 
Not to break in on what I say by word 
Or whisper, while I show you all my heart." 
And then began the story of his love 
As here to-day, but not so wordily — 
The passionate moment would not suffer that — 
Past thro' his visions to the burial ; thence 
Down to this last strange hour in his own hall ; 
And then rose up, and with him all his guests 
Once more as by enchantment ; all but he, 
Lionel, who fain had risen, but fell again, 
And sat as if in chains — to whom he said t 



THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 201 

" Take my free gift, my cousin, for your wife ; 
And were it only for the giver's sake, 
And tlio' she seem so like the one you lost, 
Yet cast her not away so suddenly. 
Lest there be none left here to bring her back : 
I leave this land forever." Here he ceased. 

Then taking his dear lady by one hand, 
And bearing on one arm the noble babe, 
He slowly brought them both to Lionel. 
And there the widower husband and dead wife 
Eush'd each at each with a cry, that rather seem'd 
For some new death than for a life renew'd ; 
At this the very babe began to wail ; 
At once they turn'd, and caught and brought him in 
To their charm'd circle, and, half killing him 
With kisses, round him closed and elaspt again. 
But Lionel, when at last he freed himself 
From wife and child, and lifted up a face 
All over glowing with the sun of life, 
9« 



202 THE GOLDEN SUPPER. 

And love, and boundless thanks — the sight of this 
So frighted our good friend, that turning to me 
And saying, '•' It is over : let us go " — 
There were our horses ready at the doors — 
We bade them no fiirewell, but mounting these 
He past forever from his native land ; 
And I with him, my Julian, back to mine. 



THE END. 



Cambridge : Electrotyped and Printed by Weich, Bigelow, & Co. 



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